Stormcrow
by scaenica
Summary: Wenn a healer saves Ulfric Stormcloak's life during the battle of Solitude, she doesn't yet know how much the course of her own life will change. After the end of the civil war and the Empire's defeat, the threat of the Aldmeri Dominion looms on the horizon. With the help of the Dragonborn, she must fight to save the people and the land she loves. F!OC/Ulfric, F!OC/Dragonborn.
1. Chapter 1

**STORMCROW - I**

_Four golden children of the sky, four spirits, born from the divinity of the sun, came the to the mortal plane when it was still young and its dwellers crawled powerless on the ground._

_The first golden child learned to fly, and he was filled with joy, but soon he became boastful and flew to close his mother, the sun, and he died. The second child tried to clean the world from the mortals, for he saw them as a disease to this realm, but he became sick himself and he died. The third saw the death of his brothers and he hid in fear, never to be seen again._

_The Fourth was the one to fly the way of harmony with the Aedra._

_And they recognized his loyalty and made him their servant. For the sins of his brothers, they marked him and tinted his once golden feathers black as night. He was their eyes and ears. Over the spacious mortal plane he flew, to the farthest corners of Nirn, to bring news to the Aedra. And he brought their words of warning to mortals, whom they favored and thought of importance for the realm of man and mer. By the mortals, the Fourth became shunned as bearer of bad news, as a bringer of misery and boding ill._

_He was neither alive nor dead. He was the servant of the Divines and he was the spirit of death._


	2. Chapter 2

**STORMCROW - II**

* * *

„I heard the blacksmith's wife talking today."

Ivar shoved a fork full of potatoes into his mouth. Elaine sometimes wondered how much her little brother could eat - then again, he wasn't so little any more. He had seen sixteen winters and was already taller than many other men in Solitude.  
"Did you?" She gave him a smile that was only half-hearted and picked at the food on her plate. Of course she knew what this would be about. When other women talked about her, it was about the same thing almost all the time.

"She said Raynell Light-Foot wants to ask you if you want to marry him." Ivar looked up from his plate and studied his sister's face. Though she let nothing show, she inwardly rolled her eyes while she tried to ignore the curiosity he eyed her with. "That wouldn't be too bad, would it? He's nice. He's a hunter and makes good money. And he could teach me how to hunt. I'd like that."

Luckily, it wasn't his choice to make because though Raynell was certainly not an unkind man but she couldn't remember sharing more than a few words with him. But of course, to him that was enough reason for him to consider making her his wife. "I'm sure you would." Elaine put down her fork. "But I don't intend to marry him, or any other man for that matter." Things would be much easier for her if people weren't so close-minded about an unmarried woman. "We talked about this. I have my hands full with the shop, I can't take care of both you and a husband. So don't even start."

She looked at him sharply as Ivar opened his mouth to protest. "I know what you want to say: That you are almost a man and then I won't have to take care of you any longer. But right now, I do. And I promised our parents that I would." It left her with neither time nor the nerves for a husband.

Before his death she had worked in her father's shop, making and selling potions of all kind, mostly for healing ones. She had even spent some time in the temple of Kynareth in Whiterun to learn from the priestesses there when she had been hardly more than a child. And now that she had no teacher anymore, she tried to learn as much as she could from the books that filled the shelves in her small workspace.

Since their father had died, she managed to run the shop as best as she could. It wasn't easy and she had to work harder than ever but the money was enough to provide for the both of them. People from the city came to her, and sometimes she left Solitude for a day or two, to go to the villages and farms nearby and help the people there. She knew that she had a reputation of being very capable and not too expensive.

She had promised her parents to take care of her little brother, and although she was still young herself, not more than twenty winters, she had kept her promise.

She wouldn't call herself a 'free-spirited' woman – that, she thought, was for women who were travelers and adventurers, warriors and battle-maidens, women who had no kitchen to clean, no family to take care of. She had no desire to roam the lands and she had never in her life held a sword in her hands. No, she was content with her calm and peaceful life.

But a husband to cook meals for, warm his bed and act like a obedient wife only so he could tell her what to do? How would that make her life more fulfilling?She wouldn't give up the freedom she had just because people were talking behind her back. Sometimes she wished they would live somewhere where people were less old-lined. Solitude had always been under the influence of the Empire, according to her father more than any other city in Skyrim, and people had long adopted the lifestyle and way of thinking the Imperials had brought with them from Cyrodiil. Which meant a young woman who chose _not _have a husband and bear him a few beautiful little children was eyed with suspicion.

If nothing else, it wasn't what her father had wanted for.

"I don't want to hear any more of this. Now eat. I have to work on some recipes tonight, so you will have to clean up the kitchen. And don't tell me that is womens' work."

Ivar grinned. " I won't. I have to get up early tomorrow, the smith has work for me. The Jarl wants more swords and armor."

Despite this meaning work and money for him, he sounded anything but happy about it.

"Is something wrong?"

The boy shrugged. "It's just… it's strange, don't you think? There're so many guards on the streets already. It's like they're expecting something."

Elaine knew immediately where this was going. Frowning, she "Is this about the rebellion again?"

His expression became angry; he sat up straight and even forgot to eat for a minute. "What they do is right. No one should tell us what to do or who to pray to or what traditions we should cherish. Skyrim isn't their home, it's ours. They have no right to be here, and they _definitively_ have no right to oppress us."

It sounded like some speech he had heard and the fact that he had remembered it so well worried Elaine even more. The problem was that she didn't really believe those ideas he had were wrong. Only that Jarl Ulfric and his Stormcloaks were taking an approach she couldn't approve of. War could never be the right answer. She remained silent for a moment, then sighed. "Don't let people hear you talk like this."

"So you want to live under the Empire's oppression forever?"

"I'm not saying that you are wrong", she said calmly despite his feverish tone, weighing her words carefully. She knew her brother wanted nothing more than to join the Stormcloaks; he had been talking about this for almost a year now. But he was aware that she would never let him go, and he also didn't want to leave her behind.

So he had stayed in Solitude… for now. She wouldn't be able to keep him here forever, though. But she hoped that the worst would be over when he would be old enough to leave.

"I'm just telling you to be careful. If the guards would hear what you say about Ulfric, or if someone tells them, they will throw you in jail. They might even call you a traitor and execute you. Do you want that?"

He raised his chin, his eyes full of defiance. "A proud Nord should rather die for his country than hide."

She knew that he was only half serious. He might be full of rebellious thoughts and too proud for his own good – but he was still a boy, playing with practice swords. He had never seen a real battle. He didn't understand want it meant – what it truly meant – to die for a cause. And she wished for it to stay that way.

The thought of losing him to the cause of the Stormcloaks was painful. She would be all alone in this world… "Ivar", she took his hands, almost pleading, "Promise me that you will keep quiet about this. You can talk to me about it if you want to and I will listen but please – don't ever mention these things to anyone outside of this room. Promise me."

The self-assuredness seemed to desert him. Maybe she had sounded more afraid than she had realized. He looked at her, confused and even a little scared. That was her little baby brother again, not a rebel eager to fight the Empire.

"Alright. If you say so. I promise."

"Good." She took a deep breath to calm herself an. "Thank you. Now, eat up. I have work to do."

They finished dinner and while her brother cleaned up the kitchen, Elaine went into the back room to her small working place, where she had everything she needed for her potions. In the light of a lantern she pored over her books, carefully adding ingredients to a little pot. But she couldn't concentrate on her work as much as she had wanted. Again and again, her mind wandered of the conversation with her brother. There was no way of telling how this rebellion would end. She was a Nord, she felt as a Nord, and she was certainly no friend of the Empire. A sad smile on her lip, her fingers touched the amulet of Talos around her neck.

But she couldn't bring herself to root for the Stormcloaks either. She wanted to live in peace - and Ulfric and his rebellion were certainly not doing anything for that.

Maybe, she thought, maybe this war would end soon, and they could live without worries again.

Outside her window, in the obscuring shadows of nightfall, a crow turned its little head to the side, examining the house with black round eyes for a minute. No sound came from its beak. For now, the messenger was only here to observe. The bird flapped its black-feathered wings, fluttering away, up in the air with a cold, salty breeze from the sea, over roof of the Temple of the Divines, and away into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**STORMCROW - III**

* * *

The shoemaker's wife was known for being a blabbermouth who didn't care much about the truth as long as she found someone to listen to all the rumors she knew. Only this time, she seemed sincere. No, she was almost hysterical.

„Yes, I'm sure of it. Silus One-Eyed told me, and he's friends with a guard in the palace! If anyone knows something, it's him. And he says they'll be here in a few days! What are we going to do?"

Elaine herself wasn't surprised. As the civil war had proceeded and after the Stormcloaks had taken Whiterun she had realized it was only a matter of time before the rebellious Jarl would march on Solitude – the Empire's last stronghold in Skyrim. And she was sure they wouldn't have much trouble taking the city. Jarl Elisif the Fair had almost tripled the number of soldiers but since the rest of Skyrim had sided with Ulfric, it would never be enough to hold the city, not without Imperial reinforcements which, if the rumors were to be trusted, were not coming. They had no allies left, at least not in Skyrim. They stood with their backs against the wall. People said some noblemen had advised the Jarl to surrender upfront. She had no idea if that was true but to her, it seemed reasonable. Elisif had every right to hate Ulfric - after all he slew her husband, High King Torygg, whether that had been murder or not. But still – the Jarl was responsible for her people, it was her duty to protect them. If the Stormcloaks would overrun the city…

"I don't know, Pista, I'm sure it's going to be alright. Maybe you have somewhere you can go, on the countryside, until this is over?" Elaine corked the little bottle she had filled with a potion for growth of hair – Pista was a regular customer, she was not fond of her husband's bold patch.

"Yes, yes, that's a good idea. We'll go to my sister's farm. I just hope the city is not in ashes when we come back. Do you have some place to go, dear?"

Elaine counted the coins the woman had given her and smiled wearily. "I have to stay. If things get bad… I'll be needed. I'm not even sure they'd let any healer leave the city now."

After Pista had left she closed the shop to visit a few patients. The sun had set when she came back home. A quick dinner, then she went back to work on her potions. She wanted to stock up on healing supplies – maybe she wouldn't need them but it sure was better to be prepared.

She had no idea how desperately she would need it.

* * *

_Fire. Everywhere. The city is on fire._

Elaine stared at the brazing flames that crawled over the houses' stone walls, ate the roofs, burst through windows. The fire roared. People screamed. She tried to walk, she had to help, she had to do _something_. But she couldn't move. Smoke filled her lungs, burned in her eyes, tears blurred her vision as she stared into the fire until the roof of her neighbor's house collapsed with a loud bang. It woke her up, she winced, then grabbed her bag and ran.

On the second of Sun's height, Ulfric and his army were reported to have crossed the border to Haafingar. Fear began to spread among the people of Solitude like wildfire.

On the forth of Sun's height, the Stormcloak army arrived at the city's gates, cutting them off from any possible reinforcements. The seat on the stone arch, with the mountains at the rear, sitting enthroned high over the sea, made it difficult for an enemy to take the city but it also left them driven into a corner with no way out.

The gates had been closed days before. To make sure that no enemy would infiltrate the city? Or that no one would betray the Empire and in fear defect to join the Stormcloaks? Those who had not yet left for the countryside begged to be let through but the guards showed no mercy, no exceptions were made. They were stuck here, cornered like a rat. The city's alleys were empty. It was so quiet, a ghostly forlorn city. People cowered in their homes, afraid, desperate. Hope had left the city, the hope of this war to end, to go by like a rainy day, with no harm for any of them. Oh, how wrong they had been…

On the fifth of Sun's Height, the catapults threw missiles over the walls, drenched in pitch, blazing with fire. They teared holes into the city, people, citizens and soldiers alike, were smothered under rock and stone, burned alive, trapped in their homes. Imperial soldiers shot burning arrows at the wooden monsters but it was no use, even when they managed to destroy some – there simply were too many of them. And when there was nothing left in Solitude's streets, nothing left to destruct, Ulfric's men breached the gate. Some died, under the Legion's arrows, burned when the defenders poured pitch on them and dropped burning torches down the wall, some fell under their enemies swords. In the end, it was no use.

On the eleventh of Sun's Height, not more than a week after the first attack, Stormcloaks swarmed into the city, slaughtered everyone who tried to resist. The next day, they had put General Tullius' head on a spike. The city's guard surrendered. The Empire in Skyrim was defeated.

* * *

When the besiegement began, Elaine had sent her brother - not without heated protest from him - with other citizens to the palace where they were told they'd find refuge in the dungeon. She had almost been glad for the gate to be closed – she had feared Ivar would run off and join the rebels despite the promise he had given her.

Elaine herself had grabbed all the healing supplies she could carry and hurried to the sick bay the Legion had set up in the courtyard of Castle Dour. When she arrived, there was utter chaos: Most of the injured were not soldiers, but civilians and most of the healers - used to minor cuts from farming tools, burns from kitchen fires and the occasional broken leg - were unable to cope with the severity of their wounds. Every minute new patients were brought here, everyone of them was in pain, some were near death, beaten by falling rocks, burned, some had even been trampled by a panicking crowd. They were lain down on wooden benches, makeshift hay beds, and, when there was no room left, on the dirty floor.

Elaine starred at the bedlam before her for a minute, pale lips pressed to a thin line, before she rolled up her sleeves, hands shaking slightly, and simply started to work with the patient closest to her. No authority was to be found, so she took matters in her one hands and began with gathering the healers and assigning tasks so they wouldn't sink into total chaos. Some had to clean the wounds, some bind them, some gather healing supplies. Relatives of patients who waited desperately for their loved ones, she got to help and search for stretchers and blankets. At some point, while they were still completely overburdened, at least they didn't run around like headless chicken anymore. in a situation like this, that probably was all they could ask for.

She didn't sleep for two days, only allowed herself to sit down for a few minutes, until she almost collapsed over a wounded soldier. Someone put a piece of bread in her hand, then forced her to lie down, though with the rush around her, she slept for no longer than an hour. When she woke up, she lay there for a minute and sent a silent prayer to Talos. Maybe, when she'd open her eyes, she would be in her bed at home and everything had been just a dream.

But it wasn't. She could smell burned flesh, she heard the moaning and the sound of a saw, cutting bone. Finally she found the strength to get up and ran her fingers through her thick dark hair. She hadn't brushed it in days, and she didn't need a mirror to know that her face was dirty with soil and dried blood, as were her clothes. They didn't even have enough water for the healers to wash their hands regularly.

It was of no use to whine and complain. She was lucky to be unharmed and as long as she could stand on her own two feet, she would do anything she could to help all those people. And as long as she kept her hands busy with work, she wouldn't have time to think about what had happened in the last days, and she wouldn't have time to pity herself.

* * *

"Drink this, it'll help. And sit still for a while." Elaine filled a potion in a wooden cup and gave it to the woman whose arm she had just bound. From the corner of her eye she saw that soldiers brought a man into the tent but she didn't turn around until her patient gasped in horror. She looked up and saw their uniforms. _Stormcloaks_. Instinctively, she made a step forward and stood in front of the young woman who tensed and whimpered behind her. Not that it would be of any use if those soldiers were here to slaughter them all…

Then she realized they weren't here for such a thing. They had brought someone. And not just anyone.

_It's him. By the gods, I don't believe it._

Ulfric was barely alive. The soldiers half dragged, half carried him into the tent. They had wrapped a dirty bandage around his torso that was already soaked with blood. Another man stormed into the healer's tent behind them, a grim look on his face under the helmet made of a bear's head. A commander, a general? "You!", he barked and pointed at here. "Are you a healer?" She was the only healer in the tent so she nodded. Her mouth was suddenly dry. "Yes. Yes, I am."

The soldiers heaved Ulfric onto one of the makeshift beds they had set up. The commander stared at Elaine fiercely. "You are going to heal him ", he told her. "Do you understand me, woman?"

Elaine stepped beside the wounded Jarl and stared down at him. His face was white, his eyes half closed, she wasn't sure if he was conscious. Judging by the size of the wound in his stomach and the loss of blood, probably not. _Get yourself together. _If she didn't act quickly he would bleed to death.

_But what a strange situation this is, _she thought. His life, the life of the great Jarl Ulfric, Skyrim's liberator, was in her hands. _I could let him die. He is responsible for all of this. All the death, the suffering. I should make him pay. No, they'd throw me in the dungeon, execute me even. But I could act as if I intended to save him and then let him die. Accidently. They would never know. Not only his life is in my hands. Skyrim's fate is, too._

But she was a healer. No matter how angry she was, no matter how strong the wish to take revenge - she couldn't. It was her duty to try everything in her power to save him.

"Get my bag. The brown one, over there." It took a moment until one of the soldiers reacted and brought it to her. Carefully, she removed the filthy bandage and pressed a clean cloth to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. A blade had pierced Ulfric's torso, slit him open like a pig from his navel almost up to his chest. She wasn't sure if it had cut his lung, if she tried to get a good look he would bleed to death. The cloth and her hands were already red with his blood.

"Get another healer from one of the other tents. I can't sew him up on my own." Neither a potion - if he could swallow it at all - nor a healing spell would work fast enough. She'd have to do this manually. Maybe the men were too much in shock to react or they didn't want to take orders from her, because both of the soldiers and the commander as well stared at her for a moment. The tent had gotten silent, the other patients - those who were conscious, at least - sat quietly and watched them.

"_Now_, you fools. _Go_!", she yelled. The commander turned to the soldiers and nodded at one of them. "You, soldier. Do what the woman says." The man ran as if a horde of death hounds was behind him. He brought back a young healer, a man whose name Elaine believed to be Quentin. "Alright. Come here. You have to hold the edges together so I can clean the wound without him bleeding all over me. Understood?" Quentin nodded. His face went a bit green-ish, but he managed to follow her instructions. She waited until he was holding the edges of skin properly, then began to sew, as quickly as possible. The Jarl moaned but she was sure he wasn't fully conscious. Which was a good thing, the pain would have been unbearable.

Finally, she was finished and sent poor Quentin outside. From here, she could manage by herself. She carefully put an ointment on the stitches and a fresh bandage over it. In her bag she found one more small bottle of healing potion and gently lifted Ulfric's head to pour the potion down his throat, slowly, so he wouldn't choke on it. To her relief, he swallowed it. His eyelids flattered, then he suddenly opened his eyes. She saw the question in them, he seemed to notice her but of course didn't know who she was. But when his commander stepped forward and said "my king!", he had already lost consciousness again.

Instead, the commander fixed his eyes on her. "You will make sure that he'll recover, woman.", he told her, without bothering to hide the threat in his voice.

Elaine sighed, bedded the Jarl onto the straw bed and picked up the bloody bandages. She chose her next words carefully, since anything else - especially the things that were on the tip of her tongue - would most likely cost her head. "You should pray to Talos, sir, because there is no way to tell if I can do that. He lost a lot of blood, and I am a healer, not a sorceress. I've done what I could. If the gods still want to claim him, it is not in my power to save him."

The commander grunted and she thought he would threaten her again but he just shrugged and ordered the soldiers to guard their king before he left. Elaine stared after him, her hands clutching the dirty cloth. He hadn't thanked her, or at least paid her, no, of course not. After all, she was just some unimportant woman to him who should count herself lucky to still be alive today.

_I could have let your precious king die, you fool. I _should _have let him die._


	4. Chapter 4

**STORMCROW - IV**

* * *

"Alright. That should do it."

Ivar pounded the last nail into the wooden board, then dropped the hammer and took a step back to examine his work critically. "I mean, it won't keep out the cold as a brick wall would but at least it doesn't look like a cave anymore."

"It's almost better than before", Elaine joked and gave her little brother a friendly nudge with the elbow.

He had done a great job. When the missiles hit, one smashed onto the potion shop and destroyed it completely, she had not even tried to save anything from the ruin. Another one teared a hole into their family's home. It wrecked their bedrooms, Elaine's small alchemy laboratory and half of the kitchen. The stove was still intact and Elaine even found a kettle and some wooden bowls. Other than that, they hadn't much left.

But she wasn't unthankful: They both were alive and, other than a few scratches, unharmed, something that could not be said of many other people in the city. To her relief, Ivar had stayed in the dungeons until the fighting was over. When they both were finally allowed to return to their home, he had managed to collect some wooden planks and even some nails and built a provisory wall to protect what was left of their kitchen. There were no windows and only a small open space as a door but at least they wouldn't have to sleep out in the open tonight.

"I have to get back to the sickbay." Elaine sighed tiredly and shouldered her bag. "Can you look around a bit? Maybe you can find some of our stuff under those rocks. But be careful, I don't want to dig you out from under the ruins."

"Can't I come with you?"

The excited question earned him another sigh from his sister, impatient this time. For the last two days he had pestered her to let him come and meet the famous Ulfric Stormcloak. As if they had no other problems right now…

"No. I told you, they don't let anyone near him except for me."

And they didn't like her either. Neither did she but unfortunately, she had not been given a choice.

"But he will be fine, won't he? You said it was pretty bad. And people are already talking, you know, that he hasn't showed himself yet."

"I know. Yes, he will be fine. But I'm not allowed to talk about it, you know that."

That wasn't entirely true. The general who had brought Ulfric to her – his name was Galmar Stone-Fist, on the second day he finally had the manners to introduce himself – he had not forbidden her to speak about the Jarl. All he had told her was that it would not be_ wise_ if anybody would know about the condition Ulfric was in. Which was, when she thought about it, more a threat than an order.

But when her brother wouldn't stop asking questions she had strained the truth a bit and simply told him she had already said to much and was not allowed to speak of the matter, or else… That had shut him up, at least for a while.

"I'll see you tonight. Don't wait up for me."

* * *

On her way through the ruins of Solitude, she tried not to look left and right too much; instead, she kept her eyes and concentration on where her feet stepped so she wouldn't stumble over the piles of rock on the streets. There was hardly anything left of Skyrim's glorious capital. Most of the houses were destroyed, at least in part. A missile had torn a hole into the Temple of the Divines. Trails of smoke rose in the air over the roofs; somewhere, a baby was crying. Children sat on the side of the streets on the ground, staring at her with empty eyes as she walked by. A woman with bloody bandages on her arms and face begged her for a little money. Elaine gave her two of the coins she had gotten from Galmar. She had been surprised that he even bothered to pay her.

When she reached the sickbay near the Blue Palace, she pulled herself together and gave the guards a friendly nod. As long as they didn't bother her, there was no need to be rude, though she didn't wait long enough but she could almost feel their wary looks on her back.

_I don't like that I'm here either._

But at least it was work that she was paid for. In that way, it didn't really matter if this was Jarl Ulfric or any other patient. She had to be grateful for any septim she got.

Elaine put down her bag and stepped to the side of his bed. He wasn't conscious yet but his breath was steady and deep. Elaine smiled, satisfied. He healing potion had done its work. When he woke up she would give him another one and then his body would have to do the rest.

Ulfric awoke when she was almost finished changing the bandage on his wound. She felt him wincing when she spread fresh ointment over the wound and looked up. "You're awake." Swiftly, she finished her work and stepped to his side. "How are you feeling, Mylord?"

He moaned and tried to lift his arm. She could see he was still too weak for even such a little movement and he was obviously in pain. "Don't. You have to stay still."

"What happened?"

His voice was hoarse, but his eyes were bright and clear, with no sign of fever. Grey, with a hint of blue in them.

_Bright. Full of sparks. As if there is a fire in him that drives him._

"You were wounded, Mylord. Do you remember anything? The battle?"

He stared at here for a moment, frowning, but not in anger. She could almost see his mind working as he tried to recall what had happened.

"Not really, no. I guess some Imperial bastard got me", he growled before he managed to lift his head enough to look at the bandage on his torso. Then he fixed his eyes on her again. "But I'm not in prison so I guess victory was on our side", he added, with unmistakable content in his voice.

Elaine picked up the bloody cloths and put them in a bowl. She nodded briefly but turned away so he wouldn't see her face when she answered. "It was indeed, Mylord."

_You wouldn't have lived to see it if not for me._

He remained quiet while she cleaned up the tent, keeping her hands occupied so she would not have to face him again. The silence was uncomfortable but she had no idea what to say and besides, she didn't want to talk to him at all if it wasn't necessary. As a healer, she might had no other choice than to save him – but the rest of her still hated him for what he had brought upon her home.

_It's not true. I hate what he did and what he stands for but not him; how can I hate him when I don't know him? _

_The question is if that really makes any difference.  
_

"What's your name, girl?"

Her manners were stronger than her discomfort to look at him so she turned around after all. "Elaine, Mylord."

"Elaine. That is neither an Imperial nor a Nord name. Where are you from?"

She found astonishing that he'd even noticed that. Or that he cared. Then again, he probably only wanted to know whether to be friendly to her or treat her with condescendence.

"I grew up in Solitude, Mylord."

"So you _are_ Imperial."

"My father was a Nord, my mother was Breton, Mylord. My mother was a traveling merchant before she came her. She brought the name with her from the southern lands."

"Does your name have a meaning?"

She hesitated for a moment. "It means 'light', I believe." _Why on earth are you telling him this?_

Ulfric smiled, almost as if this meant something to him. He remained silent for a moment, and she wanted to turn around, when he raised his eyebrows. "Is that an amulet of Talos you are wearing?" Looking down at herself, she saw the necklace had slipped out of the bodice of her dress. The Jarl smiled when she hastily slid it back in.

"You don't have to hide it anymore, you know. How long have you prayed to Talos?"

_None of your damn business._ "All my life, Mylord."

He leaned back, smiling satisfied. "Then I have fought this battle for you, too."

_No. No, you haven't. _

"It seems so, Mylord."

* * *

"You did _what_?"

Ivar made an anxious step backwards. His sister had dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and stared at him in disbelief.

"I joined them. I asked one of the commanders and he said they could always use good men. He gave me a job as a guard in Windhelm. I'm going to be a soldier one day!"

He had come home with a joyful look on his face but never would she have thought that the good news would be… _this. _How could he do this to her? She felt the urge to pick up the spoon and throw it at him. Or maybe a chair.

"Have you lost your mind? Did I not tell you, I do _not_ want you to get involved with them? A guard in Windhelm! What were you thinking?"

The smile vanished from his face.

"But-"

"You're not even of age yet, I cannot believe they'd let you join! You are not going, I won't allow it! We have a life here, Ivar, does that mean nothing to you?"

His face darkened and suddenly, he clenched his fists in anger. "You mean _you_ have a life here. You have the shop and everything but I'm just the damn blacksmith's golfer! This isn't the life I want but here… there's nothing I can do as long as I'm stuck here. I have to go, I_ will_ go, whether you like it or not. I know you don't understand but this might be my only chance and I will take it, no matter what."

Her brother took a deep breath and loosened his fists. His face was calm again and she knew that he was now prepared for any answer she might give him.

_He's not a boy anymore._

_But he doesn't know what he is getting himself into._

_If you make him stay he'll never be happy._

_He could be killed!_

_You can't protect him forever._

Elaine sunk onto a stool. She didn't know what to think and the rest of her strength seemed to have left her. "I promised father I'd keep you save", she whispered."I promised."

"I know." He kneeled beside her and took her hands. "I know. But I'm not that little boy anymore. I want to be the one to keep** you** safe. And I have to learn how."

She looked at their clasped hands and felt tears. She choked them back. She never cried.

After a while, she found her voice again. "You really want to go, don't you?"

"Yes. I do."

She sighed heavily. "Well… then I guess, we'll go."

Ivar looked at her stunned. "We? But I thought-"

"You didn't think I'd let you wander off on your own, did you? And besides… there's not much left here for me, either. The shop is destroyed, most of the house is, too, and I don't have enough money to rebuild them both. It will take years before life is back to normal around here. Maybe… maybe it's time for a fresh start." The last sentence didn't sound enthusiastic at all but Ivar still flung his arms around his sister, grinning broadly. "I'm glad you're coming. I'd miss you nagging at me." She laughed and gave him a little nudge.

"Alright then. We'll go to Windhelm."


	5. Chapter 5

**STORMCROW - V**

Elaine put her woolen scarf over her head and hurried through Windhelm's narrow alleys. The city would not be a bad place to live in - if it wasn't for the snow. Elaine hated the snow, and she hated the cold, but here it was always freezing and it never stopped snowing. Especially not in the long winter. But it was already the beginning of Sun's Dawn: Another month of winter and spring would finally be near. Maybe then the sun would shine once in a while…

She reached her destination, a small house near the market place. She unlocked the door, the wooden sign over her head squeaked in its iron mounting when the cold wind blew against it. A snake, carved into the wood, curling around a mage's staff - the sign of the healers.

Elaine slipped threw the door and shut it behind her. It wasn't very warm inside the house since the fireplace had gone cold over night. But at least she escaped from the cold northern wind. She went past a small counter and shelves full of little glass bottles. In the back room, she made a fire in the chimney and rubbed her cold hands together. When she stood up, she looked around the small room and smiled proudly. She had come here with almost nothing and she had to start at the scratch, but she made it.

_Would you be proud of me, father?_

A small laboratory was set up in the corner, ingredients for potions were carefully placed on a shelf beside the work shop. Cupboards along the walls contained cloth, bandages and other healing supplies, and in the middle of the room stood two beds, were the sick could lie down, when she and her apprentice examined them.

She called it a "healing house". It was more or less like the shop she had had in Solitude, only smaller. Many people came in every day, some only had a cold and simply needed a little healing potion, others had been desperately ill for weeks but could never afford a doctor. Elaine didn't charge much. She had no desire for wealth - she only wanted to help.

* * *

When Elaine had arrived in Windhelm, it soon became clear to her that the city wasn't kind to most people. The Dunmer were forced to live in the Gray Quarters, the small, dirty alley in the eastern part of the city. The Argonians were cast out to live in the so called "Assemblage" at the docks. Elaine had heard stories about this treatment but she never imagined how much the Nords here acctually despited both of those groups. On the other hand, their situation wasn't easy as well. The civil war had left scars on the city and its people, on their bodies as well as on their minds. With the long, hard winter ahead, there was too little food and too many sick. Since more and more bandits roamed the lands, people fled into the safe city walls and soon fought over pieces of bread and beds to sleep in - if the could even afford one.

Elaine knew that she had been very lucky. She had some coin left and her brother gave her some from his pay. He now lived in the guards barrack's, so she only had to find a place to sleep for herself. She rented a small room in the inn Candlehearth Hall. It wasn't long before other guests found that she was a healer and would help them for modest pay. Sometimes she wouldn't charge anything if she knew someone couldn't afford it but desperatly needed help.

She made friends with people quickly and one day met a young Breton named Muiri who seemed to take a great interest in potions. Elaine taught her some of the things she knew and they began to talk about the situation in Windhelm.

Muiri seemed eager to change something and her enthusiasm was catching. They clubbed their money together, found some of their new friends that were willing to help out and finally rented the little house to open a shop.

Muiri became Elaine's apprentice, she was clever and a quick learner. Although she was a few years younger than herself, Elaine had no concerns leaving the shop to her for a few hours on some days to visits patients' homes.

The days were busy and they made enough money for both of them. It wasn't much but it was quite alright. Everything was going well for them.

* * *

Elaine didn't realize they had never treated a Dunmer until an elven woman showed up on their door step. She was carrying her child, the little boy wasn't more than two years old and he was coughing badly. When she opened the door for her, the woman hesitated, and Elainewasn't sure if she was too proud to ask for help or simply suspicious. She didn't blame her, she had heard the Nords talking aout the "Gray Skins".

"Put him here, on the bed." Carefully, she felt the little boy's forehead and frowned. "He has ha temperature. How long has he been coughing like this?"

"A few days." The Dark Elf stood quietly beside the bed, her back straight, her hands folded in front of her.

"It looks to be a simple cold. I'll give him something to ease the cough and to help him get the infection out of his body. He'll need a lot of sleep but he'll be fine."

The woman hesitated. "I have no money to pay you."

Elaine looked at her surprised, then smiled gently. "It's fine. I only take what you can give me and if you have nothing I won't ask anything of you."

"No, I will pay you." She looked almost offended. "As soon as I get work, I will pay you what I owe you."

"That's fine with me."

Elaine carefully rubbed a soothing cream onto the little boy's chest and took two small bottles from the shelves. "I've never seen you here before", she casually asked, "Are you knew in town?"

"No. We've been here a few years."

When she didn't say anything else, Elaine didn't ask any further. After all, it was none of her business. But she suddenly realized how few of the Dunmer she acctually knew. And it occurred to her that there had never been a Dunmer in her shop before. Why didn't they come here? Had she done anything to offend them? How strange… she couldn't think of anything.

After she explained how much potion the boy had to drink every day she saw the two of them to the door. Before she left, the woman turned around. "If… he doesn't get better, can I come back here? Will you look at him again?"

"Under one condition."

The Dunmer's face hardened. "What is that?"

"That you tell me your name. I'm Elaine." She smiled again. The woman relaxed.

"Oh. I'm very sorry. My name is Vilvyni. And my son is called Endryn."

"Please, wait here a minute."

Elaine went behind the counter and took a Sweet Roll from the basket she had brought with her this morning. She wrapped it in a napkin and gave it to Vilvyni.

"Look Endryn: This is for you. I know that Sweet Rolls make _me_ always feel better when I'm sick." She gently stroke the boy's cheek. He blinked and gave her a little shy smile.

Vilvyni took the pastry carefully. "Thank you for your kindness. I promise, I will pay you when I have enough money."

"That's alright. And, to answer your question: You can come here any time you want. if someone in your family is sick, or if you just want to chat a bit - I always enjoy some company."

Vilvyni bowed her head. "Thank you. I will remember that." Than she left the shop and went back out into the night.

* * *

The day's grew shorter. Elaine usually sent Muiri home before dawn, she didn't want the young girl to wander around on the streets after dark. Elaine herself, on the other hand, often stayed until midnight, curled up on a chair in front of the fireplace, reading.

She spent most of her money on books. She kept them on a shelf here in the shop but now there was hardly any room left, so she had to take some with her to the inn.

She tried to collect as much knowledge on potions and alchemy as possible but she was also interested in books on the history of Tamriel and its Emperors, on different races and fractions, on philosophy and politics, even on magic, also she didn't understand much of that.

She also loved adventurers' journals and all sorts of tales and legends.

Moonlight fell though the window when she finally closed the "Biography Of Barenziah". Maybe she would read some more in bed, but now she had to get home. Home… It made her smile. Even though she still lived in the inn like a traveler, Windhelm had finally become her home. For months, she had felt like she didn't belong her. But now she had so many friends, and Muiri, and the shop… she felt like she really making a difference here.

She put the book in her bag and put on her warm coat before she locked the shop and hurried through the winter night. It was so cold she could see her breath. The winter wind felt like needles stinging into her cheeks. Over her head, stars glistened, in front of a pitch black sky.

She thought of her mother who had told her stories about the souls of heros that-

Someone grabbed her and pushed her against a stone wall. Elaine gasped in shock. Her whole body seemed to be frozen, she couldn't move, even if a strong arm weren't pushing her to the wall.

"You the healer girl, aren't ya?"

A man. He was standing right in front of her, so close she could feel his foul breath on her face. He overtowered her, she couldn't see the stars anymore, only the dark shadow that was his broad figure, and his grip was so strong that she couldn't breathe.

The thought of what he might do to her ran through her mind. She panicked, couldn't focus, couldn't move, couldn't do anything. She was helpless.

"You're friend of those filthy Gray Skins", he growled into her ear. "But you aren't gonna help them anymore, you understand? They all bastards and traitors and they gonna pay. And you gonna pay, too, if you help them. Understand, little healer girl?"

Elaine pressed her lips together and managed to nod.

But the man wasn't satisfied. He grinned, showing his black rotten teeth, and began to grope her breasts. "Yeah? I'm gonna teach you a little lesson. You such a pretty girl."

_No. No. This isn't happening._

"Leave me alone."

The man continued to fumble at her dress, he didn't react to her words at all. Suddenly she realized that her voice had not been more than whiff of breath.

She closed her eyes, tried to picture her family.

_Father… you taught me to never give up._

**"LEAVE ME ALONE!"**

She pushed the man away, caught him by surprise, stumbeled forward. He grapped her cloak, pulled her back, and-

"She told you to leave her alone. Don't you have ears?"

She felt the man's grip loosen and hastily made some steps back. Then she turned around. Her savior stood between her and the man who had attacked her. He wore a dark cloak, the hood pulled deeply down into his face. He had pulled his sword and also his opponent was taller by a head, he seemed more… fierce. Like a warrior.

Elaine's attacker stared at him as if the World Eater himself had come. He made a sound like a beaten dog, then took off into the night.

The warrior hesitated a moment, he clearly did not want to let this man get away, but instead he turned to Elaine. "Are you hurt?"

His voice was deep and hoarse like sandpaper, but soft at the time. Now she could see his face under the hood. His skin was of a dark brown, and his eyes were so dark, they almost seemed black.

"No." She cleared her throat. "No, I'm fine. Thank you, I… thank you."

He simply nodded and put away his sword. "I'll take you home. Where do you live?"

"At Candlehearth Hall, Mylord."

The Redguard smiled. "I'm no Lord. Listen, I will walk a few steps in front of you, so you won't feel threatened by me. Wouldn't blame you. You just follow me to the inn. Is that alright with you?"

She nodded hastily. "Yes. Thank you."

Anything to get out of the dark and cold and back to her room, where she would be save…

They made their way back to the inn, where he opened the door for here. Warmth, the smell of mead and the bards' songs poured out from the inn and Elaine instantly feeled better.

When her savior made no move to follow her inside, she turned around. "How can I repay your kindness?"

"Do not worry about it." He pulled the hood deeper into his face and smiled. "Just be at home before dark next time."

Puzzled, she watched him walk away. Before he turned around a corner, she called after him: "At least tell me your name!"

"Next time, maybe", she heard him say, then he vanished and left her alone with her astonishment.

* * *

Weeks had passed since then. She had not seen the mysterious Redguard again.

"Hello? Good morning! Elaine?"

Muiri had arrived and Elaine awoke from her daydream. "Yes. Good morning. I'm in the back."

"Look at this!" Her apprentice stormed into the room, breathless with excitement. "A messanger from the palace just delivered that to me when I arrived here. He said I was to give it to you. From the _palace_! Look!" She pointed to the seal on the letter: the head of a bear was printed into the wax.

"What does the Jarl want from you, Elaine?"

Elaine took the letter and stared at it for a while. "I have not the slightest idea."

_Ulfric. _


	6. Chapter 6

**STORMCROW - VI  
**

_He could have at least told me why he wants to see me._

Elaine trugded through the snow as she made her way to the Palace of the Kings. The letter which she carried in her pocket only stated that the Jarl's steward demanded her presence. Not even Ulfric himself. Well, why would the great Ulfric Stormcloak demean himself to talk to a girl like her?

And no reason why they wanted her in the palace, not even a clue. She was nervous, although she would never admit to that. And she shouldn't be nervous anyway, she had done nothing wrong or broken any laws.

But then what was this about?

She crossed the yard in front of the palace and took out the letter to show it to the guards. They looked at her warily but accompanied her inside without further questions.

When she entered the throne room she pushed back the hood of her cloak and looked around, overwhelmed by the room's magnificence. She had never been in a place like this. The candles on the chandeliers were lit, but its dark stone walls and gargoyles were only in the twilight.

"Wait here." the guard told her and marched off towards the throne. Elaine let her gaze wander over the Throne Room's interior. Men and women in fine clothes were sitting on the long table in the middle of the room. Some looked at her curiously, others didn't take notice of her.

She tried not to feel intimated and folded her hands in front of her skirt. Maybe she should have put on a nicer dress or a least braided her hair… Instead, she looked windswept and dishevelled, and her dress was full of mud.

"Jorleif will see you now."

Elaine followed the guard past the table. She saw Ulfric standing beside a window with Galmar Stone-Fist and two other men she didn't know. They discussed something in a low voice and very serious tone, none of them noticed her.

Jorleif on the other hand was already waiting for her.

"You wanted to see me, Mylord."

"Yes, I did. Let's talk privately. Come with me."

He led her into a small room at the side of the hall. A small flame was flickering in the fireplace and spreading a comfortable warmth in the room. Apperently it was used as an office and it looked rather chaotic. Shelves crammed with books and scrolls, loose sheets of paper, documents and letters were spread over the large desk in the middle of the room.

Jorleif didn't seem to mind the mess. He offered her a seat and, without haste, took a jug and two cups from a small endtable. By the time he had poured her a cup of wine and sat down himself, she was nervously biting her lip.

"I don't understand, Mylord. Why am I here?"

"Oh, don't worry, girl." He spoke in thoughtful and measured tone that reminded her a bit of her father. Normally she would his manner quite pleasant - but right now she just wanted him to _spit it out._

"You are here", the steward finally continued, "because I want to offer you a position. Since our healer Thadgeir passed away recently, we need the presence of a physician in the palace. And the Jarl has requested you personally."

She starred at him, baffled, not sure she had unterstood him correctly. After a moment, his words finally sank in. "Me?", she burstet out. "Why me?"

"I believe he remembers you. After all, you saved his life."

Elaine took a deep breath and tried to contain herself. "Well, I fulfilled my duty. And besides, if he is so thankful, why didn't he talk to me in person?"

Jorleif took a sip of his wine. "Jarl Ulfric is quite busy these days. The war may be won but you might have heard that he has plans to become High King. He can't be distracted by smaller issues."

He hid it well but Elaine could hear the resentement in his voice. Though she didn't want to seem nosey, she just couldn't help herself. "And you're not too happy about that."

The steward looked at her silently for a minute and seemed to think about the right answer. Finally, he sighed. " Jarl Ulfric and I don't see eye to eye in many things. Especially when it comes to… domestic matters."

"Such as the situation here in Windhelm."

"That's right. I'll be honest with you, Elaine. It was me who suggested you to the Jarl. I heard about the reputation you have with the city's people. And I think you can help me retaining order around here."

She shook her head in confusion. "As the court's healer? I don't understand how that might work."

_Maybe I should accept happily. It is truly an honor. But, no… something else is going on here._

"Well", Jorleif smiled at her, "you wouldn't have any more political influence than you have now, that's for sure. You#d care for the Jarl's health, for some high ranked officers, and the staff. Some noble families in the city, as well. You'd be allowed to hire assistance, of course. I heard you have quite the organizational talent."

Elaine was both puzzeled and flattered at the same time. Well, and bit proud, too, that he thought she was fit for this task. However, he hadn't really given her an answer. What did her reputation have to do with all of this?

"And, where, Mylord, have you heard all this about me?"

"I make it my business to know what is going on around the city. As I said, you have quite the reputation. You made a lot of friends."

"I also made a few enemies."

Jorleif looked amused. "That doesn't surprise me. But what I like about you is that you didn't let them stop you."

* * *

She had no idea how he could know all of this… but for the most part, it was true.

After the incident in the alley at night, in her infamous stubbornness, she had put even more effort in solving the conflict between Nord and Dunmer. Of course, she couldn't do that over night.

She began with talking to her friends in both fractions and soon discovered that most people were tired of the constant quarrel. But none of them was without prejudice and there were always some that stirred up the conflict and caused trouble.

It started with small things: The blacksmith had told her how desperately he needed leather and she knew a Dunmer hunter. When a Nord and a Dunmer mother came to the healing house at the same time, their children started to play together. When the baker caught an elven boy stealing a loaf of bread, Elaine paid for it and convinced the Nord to give the poor boy some old bread from the day before. Then they talked about what a shame it was that children had hunger these days.

She knew that people thought of her as kind and prudent. Many on both sides trusted her because she helped everyone, no matter what race. Being respected helped her when it came to settling a dispute.

Still, it wasn't easy for her. She knew how difficult it would be and that she wouldn't solve this conflict over night. In fact, she was sure she'd never really solve it completely. It had been going on for too long and there was so much deep-rooted hatred.

And then there were the rocks someone had thrown through her window - twice - and the whispering behind her back when she walked over the marketplace. On some days, she just wanted to pack her things and leave, leave them all behind with their hate and contempt.

Then she saw Vilvynis son playing on the street in the middle of a group of children, Nords and Bretons and Redguards. And she knew, she had to do this. If no one else did she'd have to try. This was her task.

_Every life has a purpose, _her father had always said. _And you don't even need fate or the gods to find yours. Just look around you._

* * *

But she wasn't going to tell Jorleif any of this. Instead, she shrugged. "I try want I can to help. I guess that didn't go unnoticed."

His tone became more seroius as he leaned forward on his chair and looked at her earnestly. "Don't get me wrong. This is mainly a political decision. But don't think I'm only using you to my advantage - I believe you could benefit from this relationship just as much as I could. I need someone the people trust - and I can give you the opportunities to make some bigger changes. What do you think?"

Elaine took a sip of wine to gain some time and collect her thought. She didn't want to become the Jarl's puppet and loose the trust of her Dunmer friends. Vilvyni would definetely drag her over the coals for this. On the other hand… Even ifJorleif might have other reasons than she did herself - if Jorleif had spoken truly, they _did_ have a common goal.

A position here in the palace might not give her much actual authority. Still, it would certainly open up some new possibilities. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to help the city. At least she wouldn't have to fear getting arrested by some overconscientious Stormcloak guard…

Also, didn't she have the right to be selfish for once? It was a great honor, and she would never have to worry about money again.

"I have one condition: My apprentice. I want her to work here with me."

Jorleif nodded briefly. "Of course. Then you accept?"

"I accept."

* * *

**_[Author's note:_**

**_Sorry for the rather short chapter, and I know, a lot of dialogue again… I'll upload the next chapter soon and it will have some action. I promise. ; ) _**

**_Also, thank you guys for all the kind reviews, I'm glad you like the story. _**

**_Thanks for reading!_****_]_**


	7. Chapter 7

**STORMCROW - VII**

"It's perfectly healed."

Elaine examined the scar very carefully, she did not see anything abnormal. Still, she saw Ulfric flinch for a moment and his strong muscles tighten.

"It's not the scar that causes you pain. It acctually looks better than I thought. You have healing flesh."

Ulfric endured the inspection with no expression whatsoever. He didn't answer but she thought she might have seen something… flicker in his eyes.

She knew why. She had seen the toture marks when she had treated him in Solitude but never really thought about it. By now, she had heard the rumours about what the Thalmor had done to him during the Great War.

_No wonder he hates them so much. And then the Empire thanked him for his sacrifice by imprisoning him. No, I do understand why he feels his actions were just. _

When Elaine was finished she handed him his tunic. "I'll give you something for the pain, and something that will help you sleep. I can find no cause for it, though. It might just vanish overnight."

Ulfric put his clothes back on, frowing. "It's fine, I don't need anything."

"You wouldn't have come to me if it was _fine_. And besides, I think you can use a good night of sleep." She looked at him with honest concern. The shadows under his eyes had darkened over the last few weeks. "You look like you haven't slept in days, Mylord."

He gave her a grim look. "Don't patronize me, woman."

She had only been here in the palace for a few weeks and never saw much of Ulfric. But during the few times they had spoken, she had quickly learned not to take his harsh tone to heart. It was his way and there was no use in feeling offended.

"I'm your healer. You better get used to me patronizing you." She took her bag and turned to the window. The milky light of sunbeams were falling through the glass, it made her smile. Spring was finally here. "If you want my advice, you should take a walk for once. It will take your mind off things."

The Moot would come together in a few days to select Skyrim's new High King. The Jarls were already on their way to Windhelm, and the city was preparing for their arrival. Everyone in the palace was agitated.

Elaine knew that Ulfric was at the end of his patience.

_But they will make him High King, there's no doubt about it._

"Maybe I should do that."

That sounded unnatually reasonable. So much that Elaine turned around and looked him over suspiciously.

"I… thought you'd say you were to busy for such nonsense."

"I am."

"You're unteachable, do you know that?", Elaine sighed. She was surprised to see him smile. It was a small and rather tired smile but since it happened so rarely, she still felt glad. He was much to stern and to hard, on himself and others.

"You never miss an opportunity to tell me that, so yes, I know."

"Am I really that annoying?" When she looked at him and smirked, his face was already earnest again.

"Of course you're not. You are of great value to everyone her. To me as well."

Now where was_ this_ coming from? All of a sudden she didn't know what to say. "Mylord… "

"Don't talk yourself down again. I'm no fool, I know perfectly well what you did for me. You saved my life in Solitude. I don't think I ever thanked you for that."

"You make it sound so heroic. I did my duty, there's really nothing more to it."

"Of course there is." He didn't look at her, instead he seemed to gaze into space, pondering, in an almost melancholic way.

"You had every reason to let me die. Don't think I'm not aware of that. I had just destroyed your home. I did what I had to do for this land and I don't regret my actions. Still, sacrifices were made. That day, you had every right to hate me and you still chose to save me."

Her smile had faded, she looked down at her hands. "I… thought about it. Only for a moment but I did. I thought about what would happen if I did let you die."

Ulfric turned his head and quietly looked down at her. "And why didn't you?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I was afraid what would happen to me. And… it wouldn't have changed anything, right? Just another life taken that day. I just… I couldn't shed any more blood, too many had died already."

"That is very true."

"You're not angry with me?"

"No. If I'd been in your place I would have had the same idea. You know, Jorleif was right, you are indeed a very insightful woman."

That made her laugh. "Did he say that? Well, he never misses a chance for flattering, so I don't know if you should give his words too much weight."

Ulfric looked amused. "I better not tell him you said that. His kind heart wouldn't be able to bear it."

"The poor man. It better remains our secret, then."

"Absolutely."

Elaine gave him a smile before she left his rooms. When she reached her office she caught herself still thinking about the conversation. It had been rather strange but …

_By the Nine, I'm beginning to like him._

* * *

It was after dark when Elaine slipped out of the palace and went down to the temple. She had not found the time to pray in weeks, and she knew if she stayed in her room she would only get caught up in work again.

None of the priests were present when she entered the stone hall of the temple, and the benches were empty as well. Most people prefered the warmth of an inn at this time of day. The light was dim and the few candles flickered and threw shadows on the walls.

Elaine took off her leathern gloves and went towards the shrine. She kneeled, closed her eyes and took a deep breath . In the quiet of the temple, it was much easier to concentrate than it had been all day at the palace.

_Sacred Talos, I give thanks unto you for the graces you have given to me. Heir to the Seat of Sundered King, Dragonborn, Ysmir, lend me your strength and your kindness and your patience._

When there was nothing else she needed to get off her chest, she sat down on a bench and enjoyed the silence. She hadn't had a moment for herself since the day she moved into the palace, and she had been much too busy to miss anything from her old life. Or to think about everything that had changed.

She opened her eyes when she heard the temple's door open behind her.

"Muiri said I'd find you here."

Surprised, she looked up at her brother Ivar. He was wearing his Stormcloak uniform and carried the helmet under his arm. His smile seemed a bit insecure to her when he sat beside her.

"It's good to see you, little brother." Elaine put her arm through his and examined him marveling. He looked older, more mature. Those beard stubbles on his chin and cheeks - he clearly hadn't shaved in some time. Probably because he was very proud of them.

Elaine squeezed his arm. "We haven't spoken in a while."

She had been busy with her shop and then in the palace, and he had been working so hard with the guard, that they hadn't had time to catch up.

"I know."

Ivar carefully placed his helmet next to him on the bench. He kneaded his fingers and studied the Shrine of Talos intently, avoiding to look at his sister.

"Ivar… is everything alright?"

"Yes… sure. It's just…"

"What? You can tell me."

"It's just that… I'm sorry.", he suddenly bursted out.

"For what?"

"I've been avoiding you", her brother admitted sheepishly. "I wanted to talk to you but… I thought you were angry with me."

Elaine looked at him puzzeled. "Why would I be angry with you?"

"You know, me joining the Stormcloaks and everything. I knew you don't like them and… I thought you'd be angry because… you know, because I took their side."

"Oh Ivar", she put her arm around him, "I didn't want you to join because of _side. _I didn't want you to join because I was afraid something might happen to you. And I always wanted you to think for yourself. That's what father told us, remember? I thought if you became a soldier you couldn't make your own choices anymore. But it's alright. You did make your own choice and I know you're happy with the way things are. "

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, you_ have_ to choose for yourself. I can't do that for you forever." She grinned at him. "You look all grown-up, too. That beard, is that for a girl?"

His ears turn red, as always when he was embarressed. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Elaine laughed softly. "Sure, sure. Are you on duty tonight?"

"Yeah. You want to, I don't know… have breakfast tomorrow?"

"That sounds great. I _really _want to hear more about that girl." Smirking, she gently gave him a dig with her elbow. "Just come and get me when you're back from your shift."

* * *

Elaine left the Temple of Talos some time after her brother. The setting of the sun bathed Windhelm in a red glowing light. Although it was already the beginning of the month Rain's Hand, one could still feel winter's touch. The evening's air was clear and cold and smelled like snow. On the marketplace, merchants began to pack up their wares. People were heading home or towards the inn.

Elaine decided to visit Vilvyni and her family and headed towards the Gray Quarters. She looked up towards the clear sky. It was a quiet evening… too quiet somehow. She couldn't tell what exactly it was – but something, something was odd.

She was crossing the marketplace when she heard screams in the distance.. At first she couldn't make out any words - only loud cries of fear and terror, coming from outside the city walls. Smoke was rising, maybe from the farms south of the city.

Around her, other people began to look around, muttering irritated and worried – what was going on?

Then they heard someone shouting.

"Dragon! **_IT'S A DRAGON! RUN!_**"

* * *

**_[Author's note:_**

**_Oh no, cliffhanger! I'm so mean! ; )_**

**_But don't worry - I'll upload the new chapter soon. And then we'll see the mysterious Redguard again - can you guess who he is? : )_**

**_Feel free to leave a review to tell me how you liked the chapter or what I should do better next time. I'd love to hear you opinions!_**

**_Thanks for reading!]_**


	8. Chapter 8

**STORMCROW - VIII**

"Dragon! **_IT'S A DRAGON! RUN!_**"

There was a rushing sound in the air, then the dragon glided over the wall. Its scales were of a dark grey but in the light of the setting sun, they gleamed, red like blood. It opened its maw, the loud roar clanged over the city and echoed from the mountains.

Down on the streets, time was standing still. People were tilting back their hads, staring at the beast with wide open eyes, unbelieving and shocked.

The dragon circled over the city, then opened its jaws again and spit a ball off fire down on them.

Roofs caught on fire. Timbers crashed down.

And hell broke loose. People started screaming, trying to get away from the dragon, trampeling each other in their panic. Suddenly, fire was everywhere, surrounding them, imprisoning them.

Elaine couldn't move. People around her were fleeing, but she just stood there, she couldn't feel her limbs, she felt like she was floating, weightlessly, over her own body.

This couldn't be real.

_This is Solitude, over and over again. How is this happening?_

She felt the heat of the flames on her cheeks.

The panic felt like a thick fog laying over her mind. A thought peeked through – _you have to get away from the fire. Now._

But she couldn't move her feet. She stared at the creature as it came towards her and opened its mouth again, she saw the pointed teeth and stared into grey unforgiving eyes of the beast.

Someone grabbed her around the waist and pushed her into the space between two stone walls. She gasped for air. Behind them, fire roared through the street where she had stood just a second ago.

The man pressed her against the wall, leaning over her and protecting her body from the heat with his own. Then, somewhere over them, the dragon circled away again. For now.

The shock was gone, the fog over her mind lifted. She looked up and into her savior's eyes and –

"You!"

He smiled grimly.

"Me."

The Redguard who had saved her weeks ago in the alley grinned down on her. He wore his black cloak but the hood had slid down. He had an angular face with sharp features. His eyes were so dark they seemed almost black but at the same time there was a kind warmth in them. His dark skin was covered with dirt and ashes. A scar ran from right under his left eye over his cheek.

"Can you walk?"

He hold her by her shoulders and fixated her concerned.

"Yes… yes, I can walk."

"Good. You must reach the palace, it's not save anywhere down here. Run, don't look back. Do you understand me?"

"W..what about you?"

He glanced at the sky, a hand on the hilt of this weapon. Elaine could heard the dragon roar somewhere near them. "I have to lure it away from the city and bring it down on the ground. Alright… go! **_GO!_**"

She stumbeled out of their hiding place and looked over her shoulder. The Redguard had drawn his sword and made his way through the fires towards the gate.

She remember his order, gathered up her dress and ran. She didn't dare to look back again, she didn't even look to the side, she focused on the street in front of her and ran until she was so out of breath that her lungs were burning.

* * *

Finally, she reached the palace.

"Get in here!"

One of the guards opened the doors for her and helped her inside.

"You alright?"

She hardly managed to nod. Then Muiri was there to hold here, lead her to a stool and get her some water. The people from the city cowered in the throne room - those who made it, at least. They huddled together, Nords and Dunmer and other races alike, anxiously listening to the dragon's roars.

For now, they were save in the palace, fire could not bring down these stone halls.

Elaine emptied the cup and tried to recover her breath. When she felt like she wasn't on the verge of fainting any more, she looked around in the throne room. She sighed with relieve when she spotted Vilvyni and her son in the crowd. But so many other people she knew were missing…

"Where is Ulfric?"

Muiri squatted down beside her. "He headed out with the soldiers to kill the dragon", she explained in a low voice.

Elaine sat up straight. "What about Ivar? He's supposed to be on duty tonight."

"I'm not sure… He's not here but I don't know if he's gone with them."

Elaine felt the fear creeping over her again and tempted to calm herself. There was no use in panicking, there was nothing she could do anyway.

The dragon's shouts seemed more distant now but no less furious.

No, there was nothing she could do. But she had to know what was going on.

"You wait here", she said to Muiri, "I want to now what's going on outside."

"You can't go there!"

"Don't worry, I'm not leaving the palace."

She went around the hall and through the door to the palace's upper floor. The palace had no balconies, at least none from where she could see far enough. But if she went all the way up the tower…

She knew where the hidden door was and pulled a small inconspicuous handle to open it. A circular staircase led upwards. The stairwell was dark, no torches were lit here, and only a little light fell through the few narrow windows.

Finally she reached the top and pushed open the door. There was no balcony or at least a railing - the door led straight to the roof.

The roof tiles were wet and slippery, so Elaine kept close to the wall. The sun had almost set, its last light cast long and gloomy shadows. A cold wind was blowing, tearing at her dress, blowing through her dark hair.

She crained her neck. In the distance, outside the city's high walls, she saw the beast flying over the ground, spitting fire at the figures beneath it.

Elaine couldn't make out who they were. But whatever they did, it weakened the dragon. It flinched, waggered in the air, the flames from his mouth became weaker. And then…

She didn't understand what exactly was happening. Then she heard a shout, it sounded like nothing she had ever heard before. It was a shout, powerful, fierceful, a man's voice but at the same time… more than that.

And she could not only hear it - she _felt_ it, tingling inside her, a shiver that wasn't coming from the wind. It was as if the sound was stiring her on the inside, she felt it in her skin, her flesh, her bones.

_Thu'um._

Elaine watched with wide open eyes as the dragon let out a final scream and smashed down into the ground.

* * *

_[A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter, though it was a rather short one. : ) I'll probably upload the next one some time around the weekend, so stay tuned. ; )_

_Feel free to tell me what you think, and thanks for reading!]_


	9. Chapter 9

**STORMCROW - IX  
**

When Elaine returned to the Throne Room, people had already noticed that the dragon's roar had broken off. They were standing at the windows, many were clustering in the doorways to see what was going on outside.

"They're back!", someone shouted, "They're back! The Jarl's men are back!"

People started to cheer in relieve and excitement, citizens and guards and all races alike. If they returned that must mean they had slain the beast!

Elaine made her way through the crowd to find Muiri. When she reached her she pulled her arm. "Many of them will be wounded. Come on, we have to prepare."

The Breton girl turned around and followed her. "Where have you been? Did you see what happened?"

"I was up at the top of the tower, and I did see how they killed it… Although I'm not sure what exactly I saw."

They gathered as much bandages, herbs and potions from Elaine's office as they could. By the time they returned to the hall, Ulfric and his men had arrived. Indeed, many of the soldiers had been burned or otherwise wounded, some had to be carried into the palace. Women were looking for the husbands and sons to return, the room became more and more crowded.

Elaine spottet the Redguard standing with Ulfric and two generals near the throne. They all looked worn down but at least they were standing on their own two feet.

Something that could not be said of many other Stormcloak soldiers.

She turned to Muiri. "We can't work in this chaos. Go find Jorleif, he has to help us setting up a sickbay."

When her assistant returned with the steward, Elaine, with the help of some unharmed soldiers, had already set up makeshift beds with mats and straw, and was just binding a wound in her brother's arm. Ivar winced every time she tied up the bandage. When Muiri approached them, he sat up straight and tried to look as if he didn't even care. His ears turned red again as the Breton girl gave him a smile.

"Jorleif, good." Elaine turned around. "I need more room. We have to get some of the people out of here. Maybe some can return home. Whoever is hurt should stay but I could use some more hands - will you ask around and find someone who can bind a wound?"

She realized how determined she sounded when Jorleif looked at her with an almost mischievous grin on his face. "I'll see to it immediately, Mylady."

Elaine grimaced at him wryly. She admired him, for being still able to show sparkling wit, even in a situation like this. It made her feel a bit better.

She had cared for two more soldiers when Ulfric stood up in front of the throne and turned towards the people. The room went quiet before he even started to speak.

"I know we suffered a horrible tragedy today."

He stood upright, with his hands folded behind his broad back. He looked as fierceful and imposing as ever but Elaine could see he had to hide his exhaustion.

_He hasn't slept in day and now this. When I'm done here I'll get him the sleeping potion. And I'll __**watch**__ him drink it. Stubborn fool that he is…_

"All of us. You might have lost loved ones. Your home might be destroyed", the Jarl continued and let his gaze wander around the Throne Room. "But the dragon is dead, and we are still alive. Tomorrow, we will bury our dead and repair our city. The beast might have destroyed our homes. But it could not destroy us and it could not break us."

When the Jarl fell silent, Elaine could almost feel how everyone's minds had lightened up. There was no muttering and no whispering, people had listened, dignified, to the Jarl, and even though he hadn't said much, his words had moved them.

_I don't know how he does this. But it's no wonder his men follow him till death._

Her own heart felt lighter, too. He was right. No matter what had happened - they were alive.

Jorleif stepped forward. "It's time to return to your homes now. Don't worry: If your house is destroyed, Elda has agreed to let you stay in Candlehearth Hall until the repairs are finished. If you are hurt, you may stay here and we'll tend to your wounds. Tomorrow, we'll send men to help with any repairs. Remember: The dragon is dead, there is no reason to be afraid."

There was some muttering but most people slowly complied and left the hall bit by bit, alone or in small groups, still huddled together and comforting each other. Many stayed, though, helping family wounded members laying down on the makeshift beds, holding their hands. Some prayed, some were crying silently.

Elaine bit her lip and got back to work.

* * *

Morning was near, and the sky began to brighten when Elaine finally allowed herself to rest. Muiri and a few others had helped her but the all were tired and she had ordered them to lie down a while ago. She herself had worked through the night until every citizen and every soldier was treated.

They had lost four, two soldiers whose wounds were too severe, a little girl, and a mother, whose husband held their small children in his arms and cried desperatly.

Only four. But how many had died in Windhelm's streets today?

It wasn't as bad as it had been in Solitude. But that was only a small comfort. She still felt helpless and she was so incredibly tired…

Elaine allowed herself to rest for a few minutes before she remembered what she had wanted to do. She went her office to get the potion, and, when she couldn't find the Jarl in his chambers, went to find Jorleif.

He sat in a corner of the war room with Muiri and some of the soldiers. A pot of tea and some cups of hot honey mea stood on a table between them. Apparently, none of them had found sleep.

"Jorleif, have you seen Jarl Ulfric? I couldn't find him upstairs."

"I believe he went outside, into the yard, a while ago." Jorleif raised his eyebrows, concerned. "He wasn't hurt and you really should take a break, girl. You look like a mess, if you don't mind me saying so. I don't want you to collapse, understood?"

"I'll lie down as soon as I've talked to him. I promise.

His care for her made her smile as she went towards the hall's entrance and slipped outside. Jorleif 's ferocious looks belied what a sweet man he was. She had been suspicious about his intentions at first, but by now he had become a dear friend to her.

Elaine stepped into the yard. Above her, the sky was still dark. The fires had burned down, only faint trails of smoke rose from some houses down in the city. It was cold and quiet.

Ulfric stood in the yard's entrance, on top of the stairs leading down to the city, a dark lonely shadow in the night. He had his hands folded behind his back again and looked quietly over the city's roofs.

He didn't move when she approached him and didn't look at her. He seemed so deep in thought that she didn't want to disturb him but when she stepped beside him, he said calmy:

"You should rest instead of wandering around in the cold."

It sounded almost caring and again, she smiled involuntarily.

She would never quite understand this man.

"I know. I just wanted to see if you were alright. Jorleif said you weren't wounded during the fight but I thought I'd better see for myself."

"I am not harmed."

Was it just her imagination… or did he really sound… disappointed?

"Good… You were in thought, did I interrupt you? I'm sorry. I know this happened at the most inconvenient time with the Moot in only a few days."

Not that she cared much about that but it did clearly bother him.

Ulfric's constrained smile didn't reach his eyes. "There's no convenient time for something like this to happen. But you're right. The Jarls are on their way and I can't send them back, so the Moot will have to be held anyway. Well, we'll cut back on the celebration, I think. There's not much to celebrate, anyway."

They stood there for a while and none of them felt the need to speak. Elaine thought of the dragon. Where had it come from? Did it attack Windhelm… intentionally? How many of those creatures were out there?

"So…", she hesitated a moment, "what exactly happened before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Thu'um… Was that…?"

Ulfric turned to her, surprised. "You heard that?"

"I couldn't just sit around and wait", she admitted, "I had to know what was going on. I went up the tower."

He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled slightly and shook his head. "You never fail to surprise me."

"So, was that you?"

"No. Apparently, we have met the Dovahkiin today."

"Who…?" Her eyes widened. Oh.

_I knew there was something unique about him…_

"I had no idea he was the Dragonborn. I thought all that was only legend."

"No, the Dragonborn is quite real."

"Where is he now? I haven't seen him in the palace since your return."

"I offered him my hospitality but he preferred the inn."

Astounded, Elaine shook her head. "I can't believe he's the Dragonborn. I don't even know his name… even more, I didn't even believe he was _real_."

"He calls himself Ahmar Asad, although after everything I've heard about him, I'm quite sure it's not his real name. I knew him as a mercenary, I had no idea he was hunting dragons now."

"You've met before?"

"Yes. We were both to be executed in Helgen." Ulfric said calmly.

"After you killed High King Torygg."

She immediately regretted her words.

"After I defeated him, yes."

It was clear that he preferred to speak of this… incident as a _victory_ and not as murder which was what the Imperials had accused him of.

Elaine didn't really know what to think of it. One could hardly call that a fair fight, she thought, since Ulfric had used the power of Thu'um – something that had been granted to him. Torygg had stood no chance against such a force. On the other hand, she had not been there, so who was she to judge? And why did the High King accept the challenge in the first place? He must have know he was going to die.

Honor, probably.

_Honor… Honor itself is not a honorable thing. Honor is something for men who are responsible for no one and have nothing to lose. The High King not only lost his life… he lost a kingdom. And his people lost, too. _

Of course, she didn't say a word of that to Ulfric.

And did it really matter now, anyway? She surely did not miss the Empire.

Again, they stood silently, side by side and watched as the stars faded and the silver lining on the horizont turned brighter and brighter.

Eventually, Elaine sighed softly. "Another night you haven't slept."

"Neither have you."

"But I don't look like the living dead." She looked down at her torn dress, at her hands, dirty from ashes and blood, then ran her fingers through her matted hair and grinned wearily. "Well, maybe I do. Still, you should lie down."

"Don't tell me what to do, woman."

Ignoring his tone, she took his hand and placed the small potion bottle in his palm. "I'm _advising_ you. Strongly."

"Fine", he grunted but his face was gentle and Elaine could see him almost smile. When his fingers touched hers, she thought for a moment he would take her hand.

Instead, Ulfric made a step back towards the palace. "Let's go back inside, then."

She shook her head. "You go. There's something I need to do."

* * *

Elaine opened the door to Candlehearth Hall and smiled. This place had been her home for month and although the palace was much more comfortable, the inn still felt welcoming.

Though there was only some dying embers in the fireplace, a cozy warmth greeted her inside. One of the bards was playing silently on his harp, singing a soft tune in words Elaine didn't understand. Some people were sitting on the benched, over an early breakfast or with a cup of meat, listening to the song. Some were chatting in a low voice but there still was a comfortable, almost sleepy quiet in the room.

She spotted him in a corner. A bottle of ale stood on the table in front of him. He had wrapped himself in his cloak and his hood pulled over his face again, so that she could not even tell if he was awake.

When she stepped to his table, he lifted his head and shoved the hood down. "I didn't expect to see you here."

The remark made her feel almost awed. "I didn't…" But who was he to intimidate her? Instinctively, she raised her chin. "I wanted to thank you.

His smile seemed honest to her, and there was a warm spark in his eyes that made her immediately feel at ease around him. "Please, join me."

She sat down on the chair at his table. "Will you tell me your name now?"

Actually, she did now but after what Ulfric had told her she was even more curious.

"Tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine", he smirked.

"My name Elaine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elaine… offically, that is. My name is Saif."

"Saif", she repeated slowly, "That is strange because someone told me your name was Ahmar Asad."

The Redguard seemed mildly surprised and chuckled. "Yes, well… that name is more… official. It was given to me and I wear it like a medal of honor."

"You were a mercenary."

"Your sources are very accurate." He blinked at her. "I was, and a successful one, success in this profession meaning that I'm still alive."

Elaine tilted her head slightly. "And they say you are also the Dragonborn."

His smile flickered a bit. "Is that what they say…" He turned his head to watch the bard for a while. Elaine followed his gaze. It took a moment before she heard the singer's words.

_"Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's hear. _

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes."_

"Is is true?"

"I believe so."

"You don't like the fame and glory", she guessed.

"I'm not used to it, I must admit. You can imagine, what I do - we normally don't get very famous. I used to be glad to get paid." He shrugged. "Besides, I could not care less about fame. This is a task that was given to me, and, fame or not, I have to fulfill it."

_"With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art._

_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes."_

"A task… to kill the dragons?"

"To kill the World Eater."

_"For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows_

_You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come!"_

His smile told her how bewildered she must have looked.

"I… thought that was only a story."

"For a long time, he was only a story. Unfortunately, he is quite real now." Saif leaned back and took a sip of his mead. "Have you seen a dragon before?"

"Gods, no. People say there were many of them in Tamriel once but I thought they were extinct by now. What makes you think I've seen one before?"

He eyed her, obviously curious. "When you stood there on the street, you looked like you remembered something."

"What? Oh. No… no, that was something else." _Solitude._ Elaine looked down at her fingers and saw them shaking. "I…"

What was wrong with her? Only thinking about it, there suddenly was a cold grip around her heart.

Saif leaned forwards and took her hands in his. They were warm and strong, she closed her eyes and fought the urge to lean into his arms. "It's alright", he said gently, "you're save here, remember?"

She nodded and swallowed, before she found her voice again. "The fire reminded me of the battle in Solitude. I lived there before I came to Windhelm. But… I mean, it was horrible but normally I don't get so frightened when I think about it. I don't know what happened to me."

"You shouldn't worry about it too much." Saif squeezed her hands. "Everyone deals differently with something like this. It will get easier in time."

"How come you're able to bear this so easily?", she murmured.

"Well… that is probably because I grew up wielding a sword. And because this wasn't the first dragon I slayed." He gently pushed back a flick of her hair. "You shoudn't be ashamed. No one can always be strong. I'm not always strong, either."

He was sitting right beside her now, and when she raised her eyes, his face was very close to his. The sparks in his eyes seemed even brighter.

She withdrew her hand from his and placed it on his scarred cheek. When he leaned forward and kissed her, she didn't back away. This felt… right. His lips were warm and he wrapped his hands gently around her waist, holding her.

After a moment, she broke the kiss and looked into his dark eyes, smiling softly. "I should go to bed but… I don't want to sleep alone."

Saif took hands again, pulling her up from her chair as he rose. "Then you shoudn't. Come with me."

She followed him upstairs. When the door closed behind them, Elaine embraced the feeling of leaving the world outside and, for now, forgetting everything else but him.

* * *

_[A/N: Okay, that WAS a bit cheesy… Anyway…_

_Since I've already used the lyrics here, I might as well point out that this video kind of inspired me to write the story: _Youtube dot com slash watch?v=rbJw2R-dtxQ_ The song is performed by _Malukah_ (check her out, she's amazing!), mashed up with the Skyrim real life trailer. I had the idea for this fanfiction while watching the video - which is probably why most of my story takes place in Windhelm. : )_

_On another note: Unfortunately, I have some exams coming up, so there probably won't be any chapters until March. At least I didn't leave you with a cliffhanger this time. ; ) _

_In the meantime, if you have any ideas or wishes where the story should lead, what characters you want to read more about, or anything else, feel free to put it in a review or write me a PM. I can't promise anything (I have most of the story already planned out) but I will definitely consider your suggestions. And I'm curious what you would like to read. : )_

_Anyway, thanks for reading!]_


	10. Chapter 10

_[A/N: I was freaking out over my exams and had to get my mind of things, so… yeah, here's a new chapter. Next one will be posted in two weeks or so._

_As a little "Easter Egg" for you, three 'Game of Thrones' references are hidden in this chapter. Can you find them all? You won't win a price but I'd consider you a pretty awesome person. ; ) (That I bought the first season on DVD recently has nothing to do with this, I swear.)_

_On a second note: Please excuse any dumb spelling errors I made, I had some wine while writing this chapter. (no judging) (I'm legally allowed to drink) I might have to go over this again at some point._

_ Anyway, on to the chapter! Have fun! ]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - X**

Warm sunlight fell through the window, painting streaks of glistening light on the floor. Pigeons pitter-pattered over the roof's eave, cooing softly. There was muffled noise from downstairs, in the inn's common room, people were chattering, laughing, shouting for the server to bring more meat.

But here in their small chamber, the world was quiet and at peace.

Elaine yawned mildly and stretched her arms over her head. She nestled up to Saif's side, bedding her head on his strong shoulder. The bed wasn't very broad but they laid so close together, they didn't need much room anyway.

His fingers stroke over her waistline, his dark skin made hers seem even paler. She liked the contrast. Like day and night.

Saif placed a kiss on her temple. "I'll have to leave by nightfall."

Her smile faded. "So soon?" Though she hardly knew him, the thought of seeing him leave was anything but pleasant.

"Unfortunately." He pulled her closer. "But lucky for you, I don't mind staying in bed until then."

"Good" , rubbing her leg against his, she grinned when she felt his muscles tauten and his grip tighten around her waist, "I wouldn't let you go, anyway."

"And I'd be a damn fool to leave you sooner."

For a while, they laid side by side, none of them felt the need to speak. Elaine watched the sunbeams gleaming through the window. She was at peace, with herself and the world. All her duties and tasks were out there and waited for her but right now she didn't care about any of them.

She needed this. A break. If only for a little while.

When she felt Saif's eyes on her, she looked up. "What are you thinking?"

"That you are a very special woman. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

"There's nothing special about me." She realized how stubborn she sounded and felt even more embarrassed.

He laughed. "You see? Any other girl would have been flattered. You don't care. I like that about you."

She blushed. "Well… thank you. You are a unique man yourself."

"The Dragonborn… I remember." He chuckled but didn't sound particularly happy.

"No, it's not just that." Elaine rolled on her stomach, crossing her arms on his chest and laying her chin on them to study his face. "I don't know what it is. Maybe you're just so… mysterious to me because everything I know about you sounds adventurous and exciting. And because my own life is… well, rather simple and boring."

"Boring?" He ran his fingers through her hair, then down her back. It made her shiver… in a very good way. "Your life is definitely not boring. You have great things ahead of you, trust me - I know someone like you when I see them."

She didn't know what to say. Great things? What big of a difference could someone like her make in this world?

"And you? What things are lying ahead of you now?"

His smile vanished. "My hopes that I would simply walk through this unharmed are long gone. It's a rather dark path I have to take. But it doesn't matter anymore."

"A path leading where?"

"To Alduin. I have to face him… and defeat him, if I can."

Elaine suddenly felt cold. She thought of the stories her father had told her about the World Eater, gruesome and vicious and full of hate for the world.

"Shouldn't you… I don't know… gather an army? How can one man alone bring down a dragon? Why don't the Jarls concentrate troops to help you?"

She took a deep breath to calm herself and Saif smiled tenderly at her excitement.

"An army won't help, Alduin would just… pick them apart. I won't risk the lives of good men and women. I have to do this on my own - if I can't stop him on my own, an army won't help. There's an old prophecy that says I have to face him - so I will."

Elaine swallowed heavily. "What will happen if you… can't defeat him?"

He smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. "I try not to think about it. And you shouldn't worry too much about it, either."

Elaine studied his face. A deep sadness had befallen her, thinking about how small her own sorrows were compared to what he was facing. How could one single man carry such a burden?

"I wish you didn't have to leave", she said quietly after a while, "but I understand why you have to, and… I'll wait for you."

The sudden severity on his face scared her.

"Don't", he told her in a low, hoarse voice, "Don't waste a single day waiting for me. Even if I am successful… I don't know if I can ever return. I don't know how high the price for my victory will be."

She felt a lump in one's throat and tears welling up in her eyes. "Why are you saying something like that?"

"I don't want to upset you but… I will not raise your hopes while not knowing if I live to see another day." Saif took her in his arms and pulled her close. "Don't cry, not for me. This is just the way it is. And you'll be perfectly fine without me."

"Really?", she muttered, huddling up in his arms and burying her face in the crook of his neck. It helped her to fight back the tears. "I'm not so sure considering you already saved me twice."

"Yes, about that… I've been meaning to give you something." Carefully holding her at his side, he reached out for a knapsack and opened it with one hand.

Her curiosity distracting her a bit from her sadness, Elaine lifted her head to see what he was searching for.

"There it is." He pulled long object from the knapsack wrapped in cloths. Unwrapping them, he revealing a simple-looking dagger. "This is Skyforge steel", Saif explained, "The Companions in Whiterun gave it to me when I… did some work for them. It's a bit lighter than normal steel and a lot sharper - so be careful. I don't have a sheath for it but you should get one."

She sat up when he handed her the weapon, and she cautiously took it, examining the blade. "And you really want to give this to me?"

"I'll feel a lot better knowing you can defend yourself."

Elaine smiled vaguely. "Having a weapon doesn't mean I know how to use it. I really know nothing about fighting."

"Alright. Rule number one: Stick'em with the pointy end."

It made her laugh, in spite of everything. ""I think I can remember that."

She took the cloths and carefully wrapped the dagger in them again. Then she laid back beside Saif. He put his arm around her. "Who knows", he said, "We might see each other again. For now, we should get some sleep."

Elaine laid her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. If she would not see him again after this day - she would at least savor every moment of their time together.

* * *

"Tell me again why you wanted _me_ to help you with this."

With growing frustration, Elaine sifted through a pile of trading documents, contracts and letters. She pulled out a bill, scanned it briefly and handed it to Jorleif. The steward was setting on the other side of his desk which was even more cluttered with all kinds of papers and books. She often wondered how he could get any work done in this chaos.

Jorleif took the sheet of paper from her and diligently transcribed the numbers into his account book. "Because you have a hand for this", he muttered in his beard, "and because I like working with you."

She smirked at him. "Aren't you charming. But you should really consider hiring someone to help you regularly with this mess."

He gave her a grumpy look before he put down the quill for a moment and stretched his back. "You're right, as always. Although I don't know if we can yet afford that. This whole damn thing costs us a fortune and the Holds treasury is not exactly overflowing with gold."

The 'whole damn thing' was the Moot and Ulfric's expected coronation, followed by suitable celebrations and feasts. They still had to arrive in Windhelm, they were only expected in a day. Officially, nothing was decided yet but of course one around here doubted they would elect Ulfric within the first hour of the Moot.

_Then he'll finally have what he wanted._

Anyhow, the Jarls and the royal household they'd bring with them had to be bedded and fed and served. All that was expensive and spending more money was definitely

"Are you nagging again?" Elaine winked at the steward, but despite her teasing tone, Jorleif wasn't in the mood for a joke and only grumbled mildly at her. Obliviously, it was deeply bothering him.

She sighed, interrupting her work for a minute."Have you mentioned this to Jarl Ulfric?"

Jorleif snorted. He normally pondered every word about the Jarl very carefully but since they were alone, he made no secret of his resentment.

"He has no patience for such _minor _things at the moment, damn fool. Only has eyes for the 'bigger scheme of things', whatever that means. But ruling over a worn down kingdom with empty pockets is not gonna be a walk in the park either." Stroking his beard, he added: "Maybe you could talk to him?"

"Me?" Elaine narrowed her eyes. "Are you roping me in for this because you don't want to hire an assistant or are you afraid the Jarl will yell at you again?"

"Humph", the steward grunted, twirling his moustache again. "What I think is that your talents are wasted pampering those popinjays. And, well, also that you have a way of talking to him... can't say why but he's definitely less impatient around you. I'd say it's because you're a young and pretty girl but there are plenty of those around here, so it can't be that.."

Elaine smirked, attending again her task of searching the next required document. "Then what is it I have?"

"A brain, I guess. With a beauty like yours, that's quite the combination."

She rolled her eyes although she couldn't help but smile. "Don't think I don't see what you are doing here. Fine, I'll try and talk to him as soon as the Moot is over. Are you satisfied?"

Jorleif took the next paper from her, with that good-natured and fatherly smile of his.

"Very much, Mylady. Very much."

* * *

_"Look! There they are!" _

_"They're here! The Jarls are here!"_

_"Look at all those people!"_

_"Watch out! Make way for the Jarl!"_

Over the next day, the Jarls and their royal households arrived one by one. The visitors made their way over the bridge and poured into the city through the high gate, a river of gold and silver and polished steel. Since no carriage could pass through the narrow alleys, the Jarls, their families, and all the noblemen and fine ladies had to approach the palace on horseback.

They were flanked by their warriors and knights, and behind them, their staff and servants followed them on foot. Over their heads, their Hold's banners whipped back and forth, waving in the cold wind that blew down from the mountains.

Elaine had joined Vilvyni and her son Endryn at the gate in the morning to watch the Jarls of Riften and Falkreath arrive in the city. Before they could get a drink in New Gnisis Cornerclub, a messenger from the palace approach Elaine and told her that Jorleif demanded her presence.

When the steward asked her to help him was some last preparation, the look on his face was so charmingly helpless and smitten that she couldn't help but smile. In the last days, he had roped her in for different task from helping him with his books to dealing with merchants to writing letters for him - which made her think he actually somehow wanted to prepare her for a different task at court.

She didn't like the thought of that - but she liked Jorleif and she wanted neither to disappoint him nor to turn him down.

And right now was definitively not the right time to grouch. She made him promise to hire an assistant as soon as the Moot was over, then she spend the rest of the day bustling about between the kitchen, the great hall and the guest rooms, until every little something for the evening's feast had been delivered to the cooks, and every candle was in the right place.

She barely had time to wash up and slip into the one of her prettier dresses. She tried to run a comb through her thick dark hair, since there was no time to braid it, but gave up quickly and grimaced at herself in the mirror. That would have to do, no one would notice her anyway.

When she slipped silently into the Throne Room, the ceremony was about to start. The nobles' golden and silvern ornaments and jewelry glistened in the warm light of a hundred candles. The eight Jarls stood at Ulfric's throne, in a half circle, facing the room. Elaine was behind some other spectators at the side of the room and didn't have a good view, but she caught a glimpse of Elisif the Fair.

Torygg's widow gracefully stood with a straight back. Her floated around her like a waterfall of silk, she had her hands folded in front of her skirts. Her face was pale and strained, her lips pressed together to a thin white line. Elaine could only guess how much strength of will it must have cost her to come here and now stand next to the man who slayed her husband.

When Ulfric rose from his throne, silence fell over the Throne Room. The guests were looking up to their host, in quiet anticipation of his speech.

His voice was strong, powerful and clear, with no sign of the exhaustion that had plagued him. He looked a lot less drained, so the sleeping potions she had made him drink every evening for the last few days had done their work.

"We are coming together, here, in the palace of our forefathers, built by our first true ruler, a monument of the mankind. In honor of his legacy we will elect the new High King - the true king of a free Skyrim, to lead our home to new glory."

Elaine saw Elisif flinch at Ulfric's words and felt pity for her. For that 'new glory' Ulfric had killed her husband… How was she doing this, standing next to him, listening to him talking about honor - and not gouging his eyes out?

"A long time ago, the High King of Skyrim wore a crown unlike any other - a symbol for the strength of Skyrim, of our fortitude and courage. It was lost for centuries - now it has returned to us. The Jagged Crown."

A murmur went through the crowd as Ulfric made a slight gesture to his housecarl. Galmar Stone-Fist stepped forward, in his hands a small cushion. The Jagged Crown rested on it, a helmet spiked with dragon teeth

Elaine crooked her neck to get a look at it.

_That's not possible…_

She remember reading about it in one of her books on Tamriel's history. The last to wear that crown had been King Borgas – in the first era.

_How in Talos' name did Ulfric get his hands on it? _

"Once again, a High King of Skyrim will wear this sign of our strength", Ulfric continued loudly and the crowd immediately fell silent again, "We threw off the shackles of oppression. And many fell in battle for our cause. Brothers and sister, you will not be forgotten - the North remembers."

He paused for a brief moment. The hall was completely quiet. If there's anything he can do like no one else, Elaine thought, it's holding a speech.

"This is our home, our blood. We are the true sons and daughters of Skyrim. Tomorrow the Moot convenes. Tonight - tonight we celebrate our freedom."

The people in the room began to cheer and applaud… except for the noble families of Solitude who only smiled strainedly or even shook their heads in anger.

Elaine on the other hand couldn't help but smile. She didn't rejoice, she just stood there, beaming with joy, suddenly feeling a glory and pride she had felt before.

_Is it the power of Thu'um he uses on us? Or do I really believe him to be a great man?_

Maybe he did deserve the title of High King, she thought. He had his flaws, yes, but he truly loved this land and with this, he inspired all of them. Maybe he really was what Skyrim needed.

As the guests and court members took their seats at the well-laid table and servants carried jugs of wine and dishes with meat and cheese into the room.

Elaine walked towards the lower side of the table, where low-ranked members of the royal households were seated. At the same time, Ulfric went down the stairs into the hall, and for a moment, their eyes crossed and he returned her smile, warmer and more… charming than she had ever seen him before. Then the moment was gone, when Ulfric was addressed by Jarl Vignar Gray-Mane, and turned away.

Her heart had skipped a beat when their eyes had met. Her cheeks suddenly burned, she pressed the palms of her hands against them to calm herself. She was glad when Muiri distracted her by waving at her excitedly.

_I don't know what spell you have cast on me, Ulfric, but - damn you – I won't let you wrap me round your finger._

Shaking the thought, Elaine hurried to join Muiri at the banquet.

She did not dart another look at the Jarl for the rest of the night.

* * *

_[A/N: Was that too cheesy? Leave a review and tell me what you think!]_


	11. Chapter 11

_[A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with a new chapter earlier than I tgought. I finished my exams two days ago and since then, I've been constantly drunk and didn't sleep at all :3 and this is exactly the state I wrote this in: completely wasted and tired as hell. So - sorry if it's not so well written. It's not too short at least. So… yeah._

_Also, you might have noticed that, in the meantime, I've added something like a little prologue to the story. You don't__** have**__ to read it, it's more of a foretaste of what's to come. Unfortunately, replacing the chapters messed up the reviews. I'm really sorry about that. I blame the #&$% CMS on the site. (Or maybe I did something wrong because I'm dumb.)_

_Oh well. I hope you enjoy it anyway.]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XI**

"There's nothing you can do, you might as well sit down for a while." Elaine glanced over her book to Jorleif who was pacing back and forth in the Throne Room. He had joined her for breakfast and they had talked for a bit. At some point, Ulfric's steward had begun to wander around in front of her while Elaine tried to read a book on Restoration magic.

"They've been up there for donkey's years", Jorleif grumbled, twirling his moustache restlessly, "What in Talos name is taking them so long?"

A room in the palace's upper level had been cleared for the Moot. The doors were shut since the morning after the welcome ceremony and no one – not even the maids, those tattletales - knew what was going inside.

A stifling, taut quiet had fallen over the Palace of Kings. There was nothing to do for the Jarls' entourages - who, in the end, had only come for the celebrations - than to dally away time. The Moot had been going on for three whole days now and everyone was beginning to feel either on edge or simply bored to death.

Elaine sighed heavily and finally closed her book. She couldn't focus with him scurrying around her, anyway. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Well, spit it out, Mylady."

She wrinkled her nose but didn't bother to correct him - no matter how many times she told him she was no lady, he would call her that anyway.

"I think they're stalling the decision" she stated forthrightly, "The Jarls don't want to lose face by supporting Ulfric too blatantly. They want it to look like they themselves have a fair chance as well. We shouldn't worry, though - they _will _elect him, they're all afraid of him. With good reason, I might add, because if someone else is elected High King, Ulfric will challenge him - or her to a duel again and even if they wouldn't support him anyway, they wouldn't risk their lives. I'm glad, another war is certainly not what we need right now. I do hope, though, he doesn't rub their noses in the fact, that would probably not be too wise."

During her monologue, Jorleif had stopped in his pace and now stared at her, with a both indignant and amused look on his face. "Don't let Ulfric hear you say something like that."

"Weren't _you_ the one who wanted me to talk to him?"

"Sure, but maybe a bit more… diplomatic. You know his temper."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "I do. Don't you worry, I don't intend to speak to him in this manner." Only if she felt the need to be yelled at or to be thrown out of the room.

"Well, why don't you try to rephrase what you just said."

"Jorleif, is this really-"

"C'mon, Mylady." With sweeping movement, he sat down across from her, much more cheerful than before. "Do this old man a favor."

Elaine rolled her eyes but his good mood was as infectious, as always. "Fine, then. Even if the best choice is obvious", she continued , and Jorleif smirked at her tone that sounded just a little bit _too _dignified, "the election of the High King is not something to take lightly. All Jarls have to fully support their new king in order to maintain the peace so they should make the decision with great care and careful consideration." She shot the steward a glare. "How was that?"

"Not bad, Mylady. Much more polite, by all means."

"I'd rather call it a blunt lie."

"Well, Mylady", Jorleif smirked at her, "I think you just discovered the essence of diplomacy."

* * *

She opened her eyes in the middle of the night, suddenly wide awake. Was it the dream that had woken her? She couldn't remember what it had been about, and the images faded even faster the more she wanted to keep them in her mind, like water running through her fingers. Screams and blood and war… She tried to shake the feeling that had taken control, fear and helplessness and the presentiment of something terrible to happen.

_Don't be silly. It was a dream, nothing more._

Maybe a cup of tea would help to calm her down. Elaine swung her legs from her bed and shivered as her bare feet touched the cold stone floor.

A noise from the window caught her attention. A small shadow in front of the dark night sky, it took her a moment to recognize what it was. A crow sat on the window sill, black feathers shimmering slightly in the moonlight, little claws scratching on the stone. It had its head turned to the side, watching the inside of the room almost… curious?

Suddenly the cold seemed to surround Elaine, grapping her. Her fingers clutched into her sheets, fear became panic and she was unable to move, as if turned to stone. Her heart felt like it was being hold in a freezing grip, and the feeling that something incredibly terrible was going to happen was so strong and overwhelming, she wanted to scream in despair, but the sound died in her throat.

The crow let out a loud, harsh cry. Elaine startled at the sound, and the movement frightened the bird away, it flattered into the night.

Her panting breath sounded unnaturally loud in the dark chamber. The vise-like grip around her heart was gone, as was the feeling of a dreadful foreshadowing. Suddenly she only _remembered_ how it had felt. Whatever it had been – it had vanished.

Slowly, she loosened her hands from the bedsheets and managed to take a deep breath. Just a bird… There had been absolutely no reason for her to be scared - and that made this… incidence even more terrifying. Why had she been so afraid?

_It was just a damn bird._

Elaine crawled back into bed and curled up under the blankets. She wanted to get back to sleep but every time she closed her eyes, feathers rustled in the dark and a pair of black beady eyes stared down at her. Watching. Waiting.

* * *

"Elaine? Elaine? **_Elaine!_**"

She woke with a start, sitting in her office in a wing chair in front of the fireplace. The whole morning she had spent "pampering" – as Jorleif had called it – some of the guest' minor conditions, none of which worried her too much. After the strange incident the night before, she had been unable to go back to sleep and was tired to the bone as well as absent-minded , so she skipped lunch and was glad to retreat into her office to read.

She must have dozed off over her book when Muiri stormed into the room. Elaine stretched her arms and rubbed the sleep out if her eyes.

"Muiri? What time is it?"  
"It's afternoon. Come on, you have to get up."

"What's going on?"

"Everyone's down in the hall, Jorleif told me to get you. The Moot's done!"

"What?" The weariness was gone in the blink of an eye. "And…?"

„What do think, silly?" Muiri grabbed her hand and pulled her up from her chair, Elaine had hardly time to put the book away. "Come on, let's go, we're missing everything."

When they arrived in the Throne Room, it was even more jammed with people than during the welcoming ceremony. She spotted Jorleif in the door to the war room and her brother in his uniform and helmet at the side of the room.

"I think we missed his speech", Muiri whispered, disappointed, and pulled Elaine with her through the crowd until they found a place where the two women had a good view. The Jarls had gathered again at the throne, were Ulfric stood, upright and tall and with a solemn look on his face. He wore the Jagged Crown. Formed more like a helmet, it made him look even fiercer, more like a warrior than a king.

_It suits him._

They had missed most of the ceremony, Elaine realized, when Ulfric carefully removed the crown and to consign to Galmar's care again.

_"_We're living in the High King's palace now, can you believe that?", Muiri whispered beside her in delight_. _Elaine gave her a smile but was too much in thought to answer her. She studied Ulfric's face closely. He seemed much less enthusiastic than his subjects, his expression was more of a grim satisfaction. She wondered if he had ever really believed he would live to be king. He had been very close to death, after all, and more than once.

Well, maybe now that he wouldn't have to chase this dream any more … maybe now he would be reasonable enough to make some changes around here.

_"Hail High King Ulfric!"  
"Hail!"  
"Hail!"_

She joined the cheering when someone slammed his elbow into her side. She wanted to turn around to see who it was but a hooded figure had already pushed past her.

_What in Talos' name… _

Afterwards, she wouldn't be able to recall what exactly happened next, because everything went by too fast.

The hooded stranger had pulled a crossbow from under his cloak. The bolt missed Ulfric by an inch, slamming with such force into the wall behind him that it almost pierced into the stone.

Gasping. Shouting. Heads turned to see where the shot had come from. The assassin dropped the crossbow and drew a long dagger as he pushed further through the crowd. People screamed and tried to back away from him. Elaine was shoved aside by a guard trying to get to the attack, stumble against someone, desperately tried to keep her balance.

A flash of metal, the swishing sound of a blade cutting through the air in front of her face. Something warm splattered on her face, the thick and viscid feeling of blood. Two feet away from her, the guard dropped dead to the floor.

Those who had been near the attack struggled to get away as fast as possible and barged into each other. There was no room, nowhere to go, as those who had not clearly seen what had happened didn't move out of the way quick enough. Elaine, suddenly jammed in the crowd, struggled to keep her balance. The air was filled with shouts and screams, mingling to a dinning, humming sound in her ears. She blinked when her vision became blurry and grinded her teeth together. _Get a grip of yourself, or they'll trample you to death!_ She kept hold of the thought of _absolutely not wanting to die like this_, and used her elbows to maneuver through the crowds, enough to stay on her two feet. In return she got some hits and strokes herself, someone shoved their elbow into her kidney and she gasped in pain. A wordless roar from the end of the hall, the sound of splintering bone, and then -

**_"HOLD!"_**

Ulfric's voice filled the hall like a peal of thunder. The crowd suddenly froze in place. An eerie silence fell over the room. Elaine gasped for air and squeezed through between two Nord women who a second ago had almost smushed her in their panic. With everyone almost paralyzed, she managed push through far enough to see what was going on.

She had seen her share of terrible wounds and injuries, and still, the sight in front of her almost made her choke.

Galmar had driven his battle axe into the assassin's shoulder, almost splitting the Khajiit in half. Blood pooled around the lifeless body. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to gag at the quashing and cracking sounds as the warrior yanked his axes from the corpse.

While the Jarls had either taken cover at the side of the room or drawn their weapons, Ulfric himself had made a step forwards from the throne, still up on the stairs, one hand on the handle of his battle axe. He stared down on the body, unmoving. "Search him." His voice was cold and hard as ice.

His housecarl went through the assassin's cloak and pockets. He pulled out a sheet of paper and unfolded it. His eyes narrowed to slits as he quickly scanned it. "You should see this."

Ulfric took the paper from him and read through it. His features hardened even more. _"As instructed",_ he cited in a loud voice, _"you are to eliminate Ulfric Stormcloak by any means necessary. We've received payment for the contract by the Jarl of Solitude herself. Failure is not an option."_

Elaine heard the crowd behind her gasp. She was holding her breath, unable to think clearly, to fully understand what just happened.

The Jarl of Solitude had turned white as ghost.

"Elisif." Folding the letter in half, Ulfric slowly turned towards her, his face an unreadable mask. The slight change in his voice alone, slightly deeper and with something of the rumbling thunder that still echoed through the hall - it made his appearance seem more sinister and _threatening _than even a weapon at the Jarl's throat could. "What do you have to say about this?"

One could almost cut the silence that fell over the Throne Room with a knife, there wasn't even the slightest whisper. Then Torygg's widow raised her chin, her face like a stony a mask. "No", she answered without hesitation, "I won't deny it. Why should I? Yes_, _I assignedthe Brotherhood to kill you and I prayed to the Divines they would succeed." A horrified murmur went through the crowd. Elisif glared . "You're no _king_, no matter what crown you were. I will never bow to you! You're a murderer and a traitor and you deserve nothing but death. And you…" She eyed the other Jarls with almost as much sovereign contempt as she had bestowed on Ulfric. "What fools you are giving such power to a man like him! Mark my words, sooner or later, he will be your doom and engulf all of you in the abyss with him!"

"Shut your mouth, Imperial witch!" Grapping his axe, Galmar made a move towards her but was stopped by Ulfric's harsh voice.

"Enough! Restrain yourself, my friend. Guards…", Ulfric waved two of the remaining guards nearer, "Escort the Jarl of Solitude to her chamber. Make sure she stays there."

Whatever wrath had filled him before resonating in his voice - it was gone now. Considering what Elisif had just confessed _and _that fact he had just escaped death by only an inch - he_ should_ have sounded enraged, but instead he was rather… polite. Almost friendly.

Elaine realized she was still holding her breath and exhaled slowly. She watched Elisif as she was being escorted out of the room, head held high, a proud look on her tensed face. The Jarl seemed neither surprised to be caught nor afraid of the consequences.

_Something isn't right about this. Why would they put her name in the letter, it doesn't make any-_

"Are you alright?" A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched. When she turned around, she looked into his brothers pale face. Ivar stared back at her with wide open eyes. "Are you-"

"What-… Oh." Slowly breathing out, still a little shaky, she touched the moisture on her cheek and stared down at the blood on her fingers. She probably looked like a mess. "It's not mine."

Ivar breathed a sigh of relief. "I tried to get to you but…"

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"You should get out of here. I have to help move the… bodies." He swallowed but, realizing his sister was watching him concerned, squared his shoulders. He was too young for this, she thought anxiously, that guard, it could easily have been him.

_Or me._

"Alright. Have you seen Muiri? She was next to me, but then…"  
"Yeah, she's over there at the table." Ivar pointed over his back The girl cowered on a bench at the table, her face buried in her hands. "I tried to calm her down but, I don't know, I think I made it worse… "

"I'll take care of her." Carefully avoiding to take another glance at the dead assassin, she walked over to her assistant and sat down beside her. Comforting the girl actually made Elaine feel a little better herself: either she believed her own words when she told Muiri everything was going to be alright, or maybe it simply helped to keep her mind of things and to not think about what had just happened. Around them, the scared crowd had begun to dissolve. People huddled together in groups of three or four, whispering and backing each other, making for the hall's exits, the guards dragged the bodies outside. Everyone moved in a strangely slow way, still in shock, unbelieving of what just happened, and Elaine couldn't blame them. She was surprised how calm she felt, but maybe that was because everything seemed a bit… muffled to her, as if her head was wrapped up in cotton wool.

When Muiri had calmed down, she firmly sent the girl down to the kitchen to get some hot mead, then set off for her room. She really had to get that blood off her face… At the door to the upper floor, where she let some sobbing women go first, Elaine turned her head to glance back into the emptying hall. Her gaze found Ulfric, standing exactly where he had before, unmoving, staring at the door through which the guards had left with Elisif. While he hadn't moved an inch, the look on his face had changed from the emotionless mask to a somber, almost sad expression. Whatever Elisif had done, Elaine realized, or how much he despised her loyalty to the Empire, he felt no hatred towards her.

_This is not how he wanted this to end. How he wanted __**her **__to end. And he knows what decision he will have to make._

* * *

_[A/N: Oh, I almost forgot: _

_About the "Game of Thrones" references in the last chapter: 1) "Stick 'em with the pointy end" which is what Jon says to Arya before they part ways in the first book. 2)"The North remembers" which is the title of the GoT episode S02E01. And, finally, 3) the visitors "pouring" into the city through the gates, with the banners waving in the wind and "a river of gold and silver and polished steel", and all those things, which is basically the king's arrival in Winterfell. I quoted a tiny bit, but it was a still too general, I know, and I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away. But you guys did an awesome job! ; )_

_Anyway, thanks for reading! Review please? :3 ]_


	12. Chapter 12

_[A/N: Ugh, this chapter was a pain to write. I just couldn't get myself to finishing it, I don't know why. I'm very sorry it took me so long. It's not perfect as it is, but it's the best I can do for now and… well, at least it turned out pretty long. The next one is coming a lot easier and will be uploaded later this week. (I promise!)_

_A lot of other stuff is floating around in my head, though. While I was trying to get my mind of how I stuck I was here, I wrote two oneshots - check out my profile if you're interested. _

_Anyway, on to the chapter now. Reviews are, as always, very much appreciated, cuddled with and made love to frequently. :3 Have fun!]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XII**

* * *

_Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone_  
_Let her find a way to a better place _

_Broken dreams and silent screams _  
_Empty churches with soulless curses _

_We found a way to escape the day_

- MS MR

* * *

_She was floating, weightlessly. The ocean around her, cool and pleasing, a soothing embrace. She opened her eyes wide, watching the opal blue vastness in front of her, the shades and sparkles of sunbeams reflecting in the water, it was fascinating and beautiful and peaceful._

_But something was strange. Something… felt not right. She blinked, trying to figure out what it was. _

_The colors were changing. Some little spots at first, little drops wobbling around in front of her, nothing to worry about, really, the ocean was still wide and clear. Then the drops spread. Suddenly, the water around her wasn't blue and clean anymore, it had turned red, an ugly, threatening red, that absorbed the blue and the sunbeams. It closed in on her, surrounded her, and when it touched her it didn't feel like water. It was blood. Thick and gluey on her skin, it began to swallowed her. _

_As her lungs were squeezed smaller by the pressure, she choked and gagged on nothing. There was no light anymore, only a terrifying scarlet glow, and t he vastness of the ocean was no longer beautiful, she didn't know which way to go, which way was death and which was survival. Her throat burned and her ears were pounding, her heart was beating against her chest as fast as a mouse and she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out - _

"Elaine? Elaine, wake up!"

Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in bed, starring into Jorleif's worried face. He was holding her by shoulders and she realized he must have shaken her to wake her up. Her heart was pounding against her ribs and she could feel the thin layer of sweat on her forehead. When she tried to say something, the words stuck in her throat.

"Divines, girl, are you alright? I knocked and suddenly you started screaming like a horde of Dremora was behind you." He eyed her, suspicious and obviously worried.

"I…" Elaine swallowed and took a deep breath to collect herself. It was embarrassing that he saw her like this. The dream had left her vulnerable and weak, and she definitively did not like to be seen as such. On the other hand, she felt the urge to hug him and thank him for waking her. "It was just a bad dream."

"Are you sure you're alright? You look like you saw a ghost." But he seemed to be convinced enough about her well-being to take his hands of her shoulders and to back away a bit.

"Of course I'm sure." She managed to give him a smile although she felt more than a little shaky. She could still feel the gooey wetness on her skin and uncomfortably rubbed her arms. "What time is it?"

"An hour after sunrise." Jorleif politely averted his gaze when she slipped out of bed and walked, wearing only her nightgown, over to the window to open it. Maybe some fresh air would help to clear her head. The sky was veiled in grey clouds, the sun only a dim gleam behind them. A few snowflakes were dancing through the cold air, Elaine frowned sulkily them. It was the beginning of Rain's Hand, it was supposed to be spring now - would it _ever_ stop snowing?

"Ulfric told me to wake you up", the steward continued, "He wants to see you as soon as possible downstairs." Elaine turned to him with a raised eyebrow. That sounded urgent. "Is something wrong?"

"He didn't say." Jorleif stood up and left for the door, with a wry smile on his face that could only be interpreted as him having resigned to his fate. "And I didn't ask. He's not in a good mood."

_Poor man, I'm definitely not the only one - what did he call it? - 'pampering popinjays'._

"I'll hurry." she promised and waited until he had closed the door before she quickly dressed and tried to tame her hair into a braid. Staring at her own, pale face in the mirror, she tried not to think about the dream and the fear that had grasped her. "It was just a dream", she said out loud to her reflection. "Don't be ridiculous. You're not going mad."

Just a dream, yes… but it had felt so frightening and so _real_.

When she arrived in the Throne Room, she shot a glance to the spot on the floor where the assassin had died the afternoon before. It had been cleaned and scrubbed, but still, a vague stain of brownish red, like rust, remained.

_Blood._

She swallowed again and hastily looked away. She was glad when Ulfric walked towards her, even though the look on his face was a lot more sullen than usual. Still, the distraction was more than welcome. "Good, you're here." She arched a brow at him and had to suppress a wry smile. "A good morning to you, too, Mylord." The words came out before she could stop herself. Luckily, Ulfric let it pass without more than a scowl in her direction.

"Walk with me", he told her and she hurried to meet his long strides and she fell into step beside him.

"There is something I need your assistance with."  
"Certainly, Mylord."

They proceeded through the door to their guests' rooms. Like the Throne Room, the hallways were deserted except for passer-by with lowered eyes and hasty, quiet steps. A stifling silence lay over the palace.

"I need to talk to Elisif." Ulfric explained calmly. She thought she could hear a hint of sadness in his voice, the same she had seen on his face on the day before. "I have no desire to execute her but if she doesn't publically pledge allegiance to me, I don't have much of a choice."

It surprised her that he wanted to grant the treacherous Jarl another chance. He had already shown her mercy once when he allowed her to remain on the throne of Solitude. And now… this? For a man like Ulfric, that seemed unusually permissive. Elaine didn't make the mistake of questioning him, though. "What do you need me for?"

Two guards in front of a door told her this must be the room where Elisif awaited her fate. Ulfric held her back and turned to face her. "I fear that my sole presence will not contribute to her compliance. Someone else's attendance may let her feel less… threatened."

It made sense, she thought, bringing a woman, and someone who'd had nothing to do with the war. Someone Elisif had no reason to be resentful to. But still…

"Why not bring someone from her court? Someone she knows?" She saw the impatience in his face, but If he wanted her help, he at least had to explain himself.

"I need someone discreet, someone I can trust." He knitted his brows and she shifted a bit uncomfortably under his gaze. "So, whatever will be said in this room stays between us. Understood?"

"Yes, Mylord." Elaine sighed inwardly. _Jorleif, if it was your idea that I'd be the right person for this… then Talos have mercy on you, because I certainly won't. _

"Good. You won't have to say anything. Listen to what she has to say and see, what you can make of it."

"Do you really think she will comply?"

"I don't expect her to, but either way, no one should say I haven't tried. Now, if you don't have any more questions…"

She would have smiled at his impatient tone if it weren't for the heavy knot in her stomach. If Elisif couldn't be convinced to swear loyalty, she would die. This felt like deciding someone's fate and Elaine did absolutely not like the feeling.

And the thought that stuck in her head since yesterday - that there was more to the story, something that she didn't understand yet, the vague premonition that they were all missing something important. that thought was even worse. Because she couldn't shake it and it made her dangerously curious.

There was _something_ about this…

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, at least not yet. And as long as she couldn't make sense of it, Elaine knew, she would be pondering about it. Maybe this conversation would at least shed some light on those things she didn't yet understand.

She waited silently for the guard to unlock the door, and followed Ulfric inside.

Elisif stood at the window, hands folded in front of her over her skirt. She looked a bit pale, but other than that as calm and graceful as ever. Her maidens sat in the room with her, one woman sobbed quietly into her handkerchief but other than that, the room lay in silence. There was nothing to do for them than await their lady's death, already mourning her.

"Leave us." Ulfric's sharp tone earned a despairing sob from the maid, and insecurely, the women all turned their faces to Elisif who sent them off with a silent gesture. Elaine felt terribly uncomfortable when they scurried past them with scrooping dresses. When they were alone, Elisif slowly turned her head to face them and eyed the young healer for a moment rather with thoughtfulness than with suspicion before turning to the king. "What do you want, Ulfric?"

"I am here to make you an offer. Are you willing to hear me out?"

"I am not interested in what you have to say. But, since you are already here, you might as well say it."  
"Good." Hands behind his back, he sternly returned the Elisif's look. "You will step down as Jarl, you will renunciate all your titles and honors, and you will publicly swear your loyalty to me." She gave a short, stifled laugh, that, for some reason, made Elaine shiver slightly. The king continued as if he hadn't noticed it. "And in return, I give you your life."

"My life?" The Jarl fully turned to him now, her beautiful face a motionless mask and her voice cold as ice. "My _life? _You took my life when you murdered my husband. I'd rather die before I bow to you again. So do what you have to do, but spare me your false mercy."

Ulfric's patient façade fell down the minute she mentioned Torygg. "I am tired of explaining this to you, Elisif. I didn't _murder_ your husband, he-"

This would lead them nowhere… Before she could really think about what to say, Elaine cut him off. "Mylady, what do you think you achieve with this?" If she'd taken the time to think about the question, she would never have asked so bluntly. Alas, by the time she realized that, it was too late.

Elisif arched a brow at her, this time so skeptically that Elaine blushed with embarrassment. If she question surprised the Jarl, she hid it very well behind the otherwise motionless look on her face. With one look, intentionally or not, she managed to make their positions very clear - on one side a noblewoman of high birth, on the other a simple girl with manners that left a lot to be desired, who obviously had forgotten her place.

"I don't believe we have met before."

Before she could respond, Ulfric answered for her. "Elaine is my advisor." he scowled curtly and though this was indeed news for her, she tried not to be deterred. "So answer her question."

Elisif twisted her mouth to a dry, humorless smile. "You want to know what I tried to_ achieve_?"

"Well… you will not die as a martyr, no one will be around to remember you as such. They will brand you as a traitor, not as a hero. If you really want revenge so badly than it would seem wise to take this offer, would it not?"

Elisif chuckled slightly. "A nice advisor you have there", she remarked to Ulfric before she eyed Elaine again, who tried not to look too much knocked off her stride. "I don't want to _achieve _anything anymore. I protected my people as best as I could, and now I feel no desire to stay in the living world any longer. But you have never truly loved someone, have you, dear? You cannot know how the feeling. Maybe one day you will understand."

A long, almost painful moment of silence followed. Ulfric glare at the Jarl as if his gaze alone could bring out the truth. Elaine realized she was holding her breath and swallowed heavily. "Is that why your name was on the writ?" Her voice sounded too thin for her own liking, Elisif's confession had left her bewildered and strangely intimidated

The Jarl gave her no answer. Her eyes rested on the young woman for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before Elisif turned back towards the window.

Ulfric cleared his throat. "Elisif, please… think about what you are doing."

"Oh, don't worry. I have thought about it long enough. Now, if you don't mind", she said calmly, "I would prefer to spend my last hours in this world alone."

"As you wish." It wasn't hard to hear the defeat in the king's voice. He opened the door and waited for Elaine to follow him. She wanted to say something, anything, to Elisif, but - what was there _to _say? The Jarl was right. She didn't understand it. She couldn't. Briefly, she thought of Saif, who, of all men she had met, might had been the one she could have fallen in love with. It wasn't the same, though.

So she silently turned away and left the room. Behind them, the guards locked the door again. In Elaine's ears, the metallic_ click_ of the lock sounded, in its depressing and very _final _way_, _like a death sentence of its own. Walking down the corridor, none of them spoke for a while until Elaine couldn't contain herself any longer. "I'm very sorry, Mylord. I should have-"

"Don't be", he interrupted and rubbed his beard in a both thoughtful and tired manner. "You asked the right questions."

"I didn't help much with what you wanted to attain, though."

"Maybe it could not be helped."

She looked up to him, pensively. "So you believe her?"

He took his time with an answer. "I am not sure what to believe."

The feeling, Elaine thought, was mutual. What she remembered of the rare occasions the former High King and his wife had shown themselves in public - it had always been very formal, almost ceremonial. She had not been born yet at their wedding but she knew Elisif had been very young, and after being married off to an older man, a stranger, it didn't seem likely that she would form such a bond to him. But then again, who was she to judge? The woman had seemed so sincere, and the emptiness in her eyes still made Elaine shiver.

When they reached the hall, which was empty except for the remnants of that morning's breakfast, Ulfric gestured towards the table. "You haven't eaten anything today, have you? Will you break the fast with me?"

"Of course, Mylord. Thank you."

She didn't feel the slightest of appetite but there were still so many question boiling in her that she wouldn't be able to focus on anything right now anyway. After they had sat down on opposite sides of the table, they ate quietly for a while. Again, it was Elaine who broke the silence.

"May I ask you a question?"  
Ulfric lifted his gaze and her heart skipped a beat at the spark in his eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips.

_Godsdamn it, girl, pull yourself together. _

"You may."

"Elisif was one of the Empire's closest allies in Skyrim", she began, this time very carefully thinking on her words before she spoke, "and after you let her live, she betrays you like this. From your point of view, it seems, well, unjustifiably generous to give her another chance to redeem herself. So… why did you?"

He took the time to take a sip from his cup before he answered. "You have to understand, I never wished her any harm. She was a puppet to the Empire as was her husband. But unlike her, Torygg had the strength and the power to free us from the fetters of the Thalmor's tyranny. It was his decision to sit back and do nothing. Don't think I didn't try to reason with him. He_ chose_ to be a marionette to the Empire, either not willing or not able to give up his … comfortable position. I wouldn't have killed him if I had seen any other way but there was none. After the battle at Solitude, I spared Elisif because I hoped she would see that eventually."

"And because your mercy left her in your debt." _Oh Divines, thinking first and _then_ speaking, you silly goose._

To her surprise, instead of being upset, Ulfric only gave her a grim smile. "You are too smart for your own good."

"Should I take that as a compliment, Mylord?"  
"You might as well."

They continued their meal, but Elaine had the vague feeling that he had not yet told her everything. He had practically begged the Jarl to relent... that was, to say the least, a odd behavior for him. It might be better not to push her luck, unfortunately, again, her curiosity was stronger than her good judgment. "There is something else to it, isn't it?"

Ulfric sighed in defeat, put his cup down and frowned at her, although he was not as displeased as he probably could have been, she thought. "And too persistent as well… But, yes, there is more. We were supposed to be married."

Elaine almost dropped her knife. "You and Elisif…"

"She was betrothed to me shortly after the Great War. Our families had always been close, so it seemed like a good match. But then.." His voice trailed off.

Shortly after the war? That could only mean -  
"Markarth?", she asked softly.

"Markarth.", he confirmed with a bitter smile. "Her family was allied with the Empire, so during my imprisonment, understandably, the engagement was terminated."

"Did you love her?"

As inappropriate as the question was, he didn't seem to mind. "No. I had never seen her before, and she was only girl back then. It would have been years before we would have entered the bond." And still, the bitterness, in his voice, though well hidden, told her it had been yet another betrayal… She wondered briefly if this was the reason why he hadn't taken another as his wife. For today, though, she'd already asked her share of improper questions.

Picking a sweetroll to pieces between her fingers, Elaine found herself brooding over Elisif's words again. She had, in a way, decided to commit suicide, and even if she had stated her reasons honestly, the Jarl had chosen a painfully humiliating way to die. Why would she do that?

Now that she thought about, the answer lay before her very clearly, and she found it almost embarrassing that she had not seen it until now.

"So this is her way of getting back at you." Realizing it must have sounded a bit disjointed, she frowned and collected her thoughts before she continued. "That was her plan. Either the assassin is successful or, if not… then she is still able to sever all ties with the Empire you may have rekindled at some point. She knows that by law, you have no other choice, but when the Empire's closest ally in Skyrim dies by your command like _this_…" Scowling, she bit her lip. Could it be seen as an insult great enough for war? No, there was no way the Empire would dare march on Skyrim again, pride or not, they could never array enough troops in such a short time. And they must have learned their lesson by now, surely… But it would make any diplomatic approximation difficult, if not impossible for the moment.

It was the look on his face that brought her back to the moment: content, proud almost, and even with the hint of a smirk. "That is exactly what I thought."

What in Oblivion…

"Wait - were you_ testing_ me?" The feeling of embarrassment and shame flashed through her, followed by anger at herself that he could provoke such a reaction from her. She fought the urge of throwing an insult at his face. Or maybe a tankard.

Ulfric gave a short, raucous laugh and then smiled so affectionate at her, she silently cursed him and his charms to Oblivion. "I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."

Crossing her arms, Elaine scowled at him, not willing to show him so easily that she was already more curious than angry. "Then what exactly was it you meant by it?"

"I did not lie when I said you were my advisor. Well, at least I hope for your counsel in the future."

The last of her resistance broke away immediately. "My-? But… why? I have no experience in that sort of thing. I know nothing of politics, and –"

"You have proved these words wrong just a moment ago.", he interrupted curtly. "You might be young and inexperienced but you have a sharp mind. What you don't yet know, you will learn in time." When she wanted to interject, he raised a hand to silence her and she closed her mouth, frustrated. "I have been a soldier for the most part of my life, Elaine. King or not, I am a warrior at heart and so are most other people I trust. But this is peacetime. And soldiers don't rule kingdoms. I will need a new perspective at some point. I will have to surround myself with people who can provide that. And I trust your intellect."

Heart pounding in her chest, she listened quietly to him, her hands nervously clasped. "And what", her mouth was a bit dry but at least she managed to sound confident, "makes you think you can trust me?"

His answer was undeviating and honest in an almost grave way. "You have given me no reason not to trust you. You have more than fulfilled your duties. You never hesitated to help no matter what was asked from you. And since you came here, despite the fact that I owe you my life, you never asked anything for yourself. I have no reason to doubt your loyalty."

Actually, it had never even occurred to her that he could be in some kind of debt with her. She remembered her conversation few days ago about the events in Solitude. He knew she had thought about letting him die. That, in the end, she could never deny her duty like that. And in retrospect, she didn't regret her decision. Who knew where she might be now if she had acted differently? Who knew what had become of Skyrim?

After all, she did trust Ulfric's good intensions for his country. He might have his flaws, but he would be by far not a bad king.

And here was her opportunity to help assuring that.

"What do you say?" His voice was gentle and there was the spark in his eyes again… if only she had a stronger will. As things were, there was no way she could refuse him on anything.

Despite her inner conflict, she managed an amused smile. "Do I have a choice, Mylord?"

"Of course you do. I will not force you to anything you don't want."

Loyalty could, after all, not be forced, she thought. But he didn't need to do that with her, anyway.

She took a deep breath and met his eyes, chin raised and unwittingly sitting upright and straightening her shoulders. "If you want my help, Mylord, you have it. I have to tell you right now, though, that if you ask my opinion, I will speak my mind. I will not whitewash what I think only because you might disagree with me." Diplomacy be damned, she wouldn't waste any more time weighing every word she wanted to say.

The king only chuckled again. "I would expect nothing less from you."

"You might not always like what you hear."

"Don't worry. I can certainly live with that."

* * *

When dawn lowered its grey veil over the city, her good mood had vanished again. She had struggled with herself throughout the rest of the day whether she should go or not, and finally told herself that she owed it to the Jarl, that though she didn't understand Elisif's longing to rejoin her husband in Sovngarde, she at least had to watch her go.

It was a strange and almost unreal experience. She had never watched an execution before, it had always seemed inappropriate, despicable even, to gawk as someone was led to the slaughter like a lamb. Only that, unlike cattle, those condemned to walk to the block knew exactly what awaited them.

And still, there she was, standing in front of the wooden platform built at the city's gate for this occasion, lit up by torches that cast circles of light into the falling darkness, and a few snowflakes danced down from the sky in the cold breeze. She had silently watched Elisif being led through the crowd who swore and hooted disdainful, and the guards had to form a lane for her to come through unharmed. It was disgraceful.

Ulfric stood on the platform a few steps behind the executioner, watching the scene motionless. It was Galmar, who read the sentence to Elisif. The woman gave no reaction at all. Her hair was braided stringently, her dress was simple, but elegant and clean and she held herself upright. If only it hadn't been for the absent look on her face… She didn't answer, she didn't cry, her face was blank without any emotion. It seemed as if in her mind, she was already far away.

While the Jarl kneeled down before the block and bowed her head, down in the crowd, Jorleif stepped beside Elaine and softly put a hand on her arm. "You might want to look away, Mylady", he said quietly in her ear.

"No."

She wasn't sure if this was truly her own voice. Everything seemed strangely distant; she was watching, but not really there; this was another's body, a different life, not her own. She heard the noise of the crowd behind her but only muffled, as if there was a wall between them and herself. And at the same time, her senses were sharper than ever and she absorbed the sounds, the smell, the torches' light leaving hard lines on the faces before her. Unmoving, she watched the headsman raised his greatsword and brought it down in flowing motion, the cracking sound as the blade crushed through flesh and bone. The moaning of the people behind her, as Elisif's head fell down into the basket in front of the block, and the life pouring out of her into a thick, red pool; the sharp metallic smell; the snowflakes that landed on the red spot and slowly melted into it.

_Blood._


	13. Chapter 13

_[A/N: Hi guys! Here's a new chapter and it turned out even longer than last one. I actually expected to finish this sooner, but then… alcohol. (I'm on vacation! No judging!) (I always find an excuse, don't I?) Anyway, I wanted to thank all of you who reviewed, favorited, followed and did other things with or to this story. You guys hold a special place in my heart. ;3 A fair warning, though: I am leaving you with a barely edited chapter, so there will probably be some (hopefully teeny tiny) errors. I blame it on the margaritas. By the way, yes, there will be more of our beloved Dragonborn Saif in the future, a lot more, in fact. You'll see. ; )_

_As always, I hope you'll enjoy the read.]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XIII**

"Erikur of Solitude urgently requests an audience." Elaine handed Ulfric the letter she had received this morning. They sat in the war room, on the table between them a pile of documents and two cups of the spiced wine Elaine preferred over mead.

"The name sounds familiar."

"He was Thane to Elisif. It doesn't say what he wants but if I were to guess, I'd say he wants you to restore his position at Solitude's court. Or maybe he will even chance his luck and try to convince you to appoint him the next Jarl of Haafingar."

Ulfric raised his eyebrows, scanning the letter quickly. "I take it he wasn't exactly loyal to his former Jarl. Would I want to put him in a position with decisive power?"

Thinking about her answer she tapped onto the leather-bound folder she carried with her with the back of her quill, a habit she had picked up in the long nights she brooded over books and maps and other scrolls of parchment. Sons and daughters of noblemen were taught the arts of diplomacy and statecraft from their early years on - Elaine now had to learn them by herself in a few week's time. Skyrim's noble houses and their kinship alone a took her almost a week to memorize. She knew she worked harder than it was expected from her; as he had promised, Ulfric never demanded more of her than she could possibly know. However, she was not one to apply herself to a task only half-heartedly.

This was, of course, not at all about her wanting to impress the king…

"I don't think so. I have never met him but I remember what people talked. He is a business man through and through, and he would do anything for a bit more wealth and power. He was said to even have connections to the Thalmor but that might be just a rumor. Nevertheless, you don't want someone whose loyalty can be bought."

"I see. What do I do with him, then?"

"Maybe give him some honorary title instead of a post with actual decisive power?"

He shot her an impatient glare over the edge of the paper that made her hunch her shoulders slightly in a sense of guilt. "I know, I know, 'a question is not an answer'." For some reason, he absolutely disliked it when she did that. "What I wanted to say is, maintaining business relations with him might be quite beneficial but you shouldn't put him in a position where he can do you any harm if someone else comes along who pays better."

This time he gave her an approving nod and she couldn't help a little proud smile before she carefully dipped her quill into the ink jar and scribbled a hasty note on the parchment in front of her.

Their meetings often felt more like lessons for her and Ulfric was an emboldening, if somewhat impatient teacher. Neither did he ever fail he to encourage her to answer nor did he hesitate to correct her forthrightly and rigorously when she was wrong. Which was the case much less than she had fear but more often than she would wish.

While Jorleif had continued to keep tab on the accounting books, most of the Jarl's correspondence had become Elaine's responsibility - sorting through the countless letters that arrived at the palace every day, deciding which were important enough to take to the king, writing answers and orders for him to sign. When she didn't brood over the papers on her desk, she would sit with Muiri and practice healing spells and potion recipes with her – after all, someone had to take over most of her responsibilities as a healer, and luckily, the young girl was eager to prove herself. A few weeks passed, and she grew more confident with her new tasks and settled in a engaging but still comfortable routine.

At first she would feel a little uncomfortable, always concerned she might lack the necessary understanding of a current matter. From time to time, she wondered what Ulfric believed to achieve with this, what it was he saw in her that was worth using his scarce time to educate her. Sure, her assistance saved him time and work. And she didn't mind working with him, on the contrary. His presence was captivating and she secretly admired his manner of speaking, the sobriety in his deep, ground cadences that always seemed to have the effect of making her feel at ease and excited at the same time.

Sometimes, she caught herself listening to the sound of his voice without actually paying attention his words. It had resulted in one or two rather embarrassing moments after which she had inwardly admonished herself to pull herself together.

"Very good." Ulfric handed Erikur's letter back to her. "We will find something appropriate for him. In the meantime, you might as well invite him. The palace is more of a beehive these days anyway."

Since the Moot, Windhelm and the palace were crawling with visitors and more strolled through the gates every day, lords and ladies, merchants, adventurers, pilgrims. With them, they brought septims and soon, the city began to shine in new splendor. Unfortunately, it also meant you could hardly have a quiet moment anywhere; behind them from the Throne Room, scraps of conversation, the clanging of tableware, the hurried padding of footsteps sounded through the archway into the war room.

Elaine tried not to let the particularly high pitched laughter of a woman in the hall distract her, and put the letter back into her leather binder. "So, it does work like this?", she asked thinking back to what she assumed Erikur was trying to achieve. "You _assign_ a new Jarl, just like that?"

"Normally, the title is acquired only by birthright, but when the former Jarl has left no heir, it falls to the king to find a suitable successor to present to the people. Elisif had no children or siblings. She did have a cousin, but he has not come forward yet and I doubt he ever will."

"Well", she remarked while fishing for the next letter, "whatever you do, I don't think you should wait too long. The longer the Hold is without a formal ruler, the greater the risk you lose control of it. Especially since it was the capital city for so long. You should take no chances, the port is far too important as a trading post to take ."

"I am aware of that."

"It's been almost six weeks, Mylord..."

Ulfric gave her a sour look as he took the next paper from her. "Don't hassle me, woman. These things have to be well considered."

A smile creased her lips. "Hassling you is what I'm here for." By now, she knew him and his whims well enough to know he was merely teasing, and she had never been one to let that bother her. She had quickly learned to read his mood, how his voice would drop not quite an octave when something angered him, the crease between his brows when he was pondering , the mischievous sparks in his eyes on the rare, but all the more precious occasions he joked with her.

Their conversation was interrupted when Galmar Stone-Fist entered the war room, scowling as always. His expression turned even more sullen when he encountered Elaine who returned his look with a grim kind of stubbornness. She had never done anything to offend him but for some reason he had shown her nothing but resentment. Maybe it was simply because she was a woman, or an outsider, or not a _"true Nord"_ as he liked to say. Not that he had ever cared to explained why this was so bloody important. Apparently, blatant racism and the urge to constantly express one's superiority to others - quite a stretch, in her opinion - ran in the family…

"Reports came back from Haafingar. We need to talk.", he growled with a telling look towards Elaine. No, he apparently was unable to bring himself to _politely ask her to leave_…

It was not a good time to sulk over his behavior, so she swiftly collected her parchments, clamped the binder under her arm and took her cup of wine with her. "I take my leave, then, Mylord." Ulfric dismissed her with a nod, and Galmar took her seat as she left the room towards the entrance hall.

"The scouts came back with nothing." As she went through the door and around the corner, she couldn't help but linger for a moment and listen to Galmar's report. "Looks like the bloody elves vanished into thin air. We were onto a group of them but they managed to shake us off somehow."

"And the embassy?"

"Nothing new there. Still gathering dust. I wish we got there faster; could have smoked 'em out like skeevers."

"Then we would have the Dominion on our doorstep by now, and we both know, my friend, we don't have the forces to confront them. Not yet."

She didn't stay to hear Galmar's answer. Shuddering, she grabbed her folder tighter and hurried down the hall towards her quarters. _'Not yet.'_ Another war? Had this always been his goal - drive the Thalmor out of Skyrim first, and then march on the Summerset Isles .

It was not a comforting thought.

* * *

A few hours later she had almost forgotten about the overheard conversation. Holding little Endryn on her lap, bobbing him gently up and down on her knees. His happy face and enthusiastic chuckles let her face light up with a beatific smile. "Oh, you've gotten so tall! Almost grown up, aren't you?" It had been much too long since she had last visited her friend Vilvyni and her son in town. They'd met at the New Gnisis Cornerclub, since Candlehearth Hall was much too crowded these day, and even the smaller inn in the Gray Quarter was unusually crowded.

The two women sat at a small corner table and chatted for over an hour about pleasantly trivial things, while outside, dusk was approaching, and Ambarys lit some candles on the counter and the small room filled up with more and more patrons. A few customers slipped in and out the inn; as the evening progressed, the few tables all became occupied.

Elaine tickled Endryn's belly and laughed as the boy's giggles merged into a yawn. "Someone's tired, hm?"

"Speaking of tired", Vilvyni took a sip from her bottle and eyed her friend pensively, "did you have one of those dreams again?"

"No, nothing." She put Endryn's tired, heavy head on her shoulder, gently stroke his hair and reached for her bottle of ale from the table with her free hand. "No dreams, no creepy visions… I feel fine. Oh, before I forget - do you still feel chilly so often? I brought you some Hawk Beak." Not wanting to wake Endryn up, she carefully reached for her bag and pulled out a small vial full of the meticulously grinded powder. Wuunferth had taken quite a sum for it but she didn't mind - she spent hardly any money for herself so the septims Jorleif paid her for her expenses collected dust in the strongbox on her desk.

Vilvyni took it not without hesitation. "You shouldn't have. I'll be fine. I just have to remember to dress warmer."

"Oh, it's nothing. It's not that hard to get. And it helps quite well; just take a pinch every morning and you will feel much better in a few days. It's the least I can do…" Her voice trailed away and she stared murkily into her bottle. Since their new arrangement, she had tried talking to Ulfric about the Gray Quarter twice - both times he had cut her off with a gruff reply, so she had gotten nowhere. She'd thought about talking to Jorleif about getting the money for renovations somehow but going behind the king's back probably wasn't a good idea - even if he was too stubborn for his own good.

It left her feeling as if she had betrayed her friends and her own ideals.

"Don't lose any sleep over it." Vilvyni gently patted her friends arm. "You have done a lot for us already. And things are getting better. A few days ago I talked to Niranye on the market about my the broken lock on my door I couldn't fix. Captain Lonely-Gale came by and said he would repair it for me. He stopped by my house the next morning." A warm smile lit up the Dunmer's face. "Even stayed for breakfast. He was really nice to Endryn, too."

The way she said it made Elaine giggle a little. "Was he, now?"

Though it was hardly visible on her dark skin, she was sure Vilvyni blushed a little. "It's not what you think." Her smile faded away and she turned her bottle in her hand, lost in thought. "I don't even know if Llondryn is alive or dead." Only once had she talked about her husband to Elaine - how he had went after some bandits who had stolen some of their baggage while they were traveling over the Velothi Mountains. When he hadn't returned, a pregnant Vilvyni had made her way to Windhelm on her own.

Elaine took the Dunmer's hand in hers and squeezed it compassionately. "Do you _think _he is still alive?" It was not very likely and she was sure Vilvyni didn't really believe it either - still, she had not completely given up hope yet and Elaine didn't want to sound too disheartening. It was normal, though not healthy, that Vilvyni was still agonizing over her husband's fate and couldn't accept he would never return.

When Vilvyni's lips trembled, she regretted the question immediately. "I'm sorry - let's not talk about it anymore, alright?" Inwardly, she made a note to talk to Jorleif about it - maybe some scouts were heading in the direction anyway? There must be something she could do…

"Alright. Thank you." Vilvyni wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and managed a little smile. "For being there. That's what I meant before, you know. It's the little things that matter." Elaine watched silently as her friend took a deep breath and collected herself before continuing. !Great changes don't come over night but it does get better for us, little by little. You'll see."

This wasn't a pleasant topic, either, but it didn't make her feel as uneasy as seeing the other's pain. "So - you think I'm too impatient?"

"Well, your lifespan is much shorter than mine, so naturally you want things to happen faster. But, yes, even for a human you are very impatient." Vilvyni tilted her head to the side slightly. "The king likes you, doesn't he?"

"What?" Now it was her time to blush, she felt the heat rise to her face and took a hasty sip from her bottle to hide it. "What makes you say that?"

Her friend continued as if she had not heard the objection. "Don't throw that away because you want to rush things that cannot be forced."

"I thought… I mean, you have every right to hate him. I thought, you'd be angry with me."

"I have no pleasant feelings towards him. But you're my friend. If you think that not all hope is lost with him, then I'll trust your judgment."

It was comforting to hear but couldn't completely dispel the feeling of guilt.

_'I believe you could benefit from this relationship just as much as I could.'_

_'Every life has a purpose. And you don't even need fate or the gods to find yours. Just look around you.'_

_Have I lost sight of what my purpose is?_

* * *

By the time they finished their drinks, Endryn was fast asleep, and his mother took him in her arms as they prepared to leave. They parted ways outside the inn; Elaine hugged both of them tightly and made Vilvyni promise to visit her in the palace some time. It was dark by now, but not that late, so she decided to stop by the market and see if Aval Atheron still had some fresh ingredients for Muiri.

She noticed the loud, unsettling voice before she even turned the corner - and she had heard it often enough so it took her only a moment to recognize who it belonged to. _Damn it. _She hastened her steps, craning her neck as she approached the market to look over the circle of people that had formed in the middle of the small square. When she pushed through and saw the attention-grabbing scene, anger flashed in her eyes. _Not him again…_

"Rolff!"

Rolff Stone-Fist was holding a young Dunmer girl by the arm; she couldn't be older than sixteen years, still adolescent, and Elaine was sure she had never seen her before. Maybe she had just come to town with a new group of travelers. What a warm welcome… Her eyes were wide and full of fear as she struggled to free herself from Rolff's grip. "Please - I didn't do anything!" Her voice wasn't more than a frightened squeak.

Elaine pushed through the circle of bystanders and planted herself in front of the rampaging man and his victim. It didn't have a much imposing effect, though, since he was taller by more than a head. But, gods help her, she wouldn't let the bastard intimidate her!

She could smell the stifling scent of mead that always seemed to surround the man even from where she stood. His bleary eyes flickered over to her, watching her with an almost animalistic look on his face, like a provoked predator. He didn't release the girl's arm but his full attention now lay on the woman who dared to oppose him like that. Instinctively, her fingers closed around the hilt of Saif's dagger on her belt.

"Let her _go_!", she hissed.

Rolff snarled scornfully, drunkenly staggering where he stood but still holding the arm of his victim tightly enough to bruise, and the girl was much too scared to really fright back. "The little gray skin bitch tried to steal from me. She's going to pay for that!"

Terrified, the Dumner whimpered quietly. "P-Please, I didn't - I'm not a thief, please, please, let me go!"

Elaine felt her hands clenching to fists. "Don't make me laugh, Rolff, we all know she did nothing of that sort. Leave her alone and pick on someone your own bloody size!" He actually looked perplexed for a moment by the unexpected opposition and she used the moment to turn her head and gaze over the crowd of people still standing unmoving.

"How can you let him terrorize other people? How_ in Oblivion _can you stand there and just _watch_?"

She stared into pale faces, some of which she recognized, all hesitant and reluctant, if somewhat - at least some of them - conscience-stricken and embarrassed. The blacksmith's apprentice Hermir who pattered nervously from one foot to another, Torsten Cruel-Sea shifting uncomfortably where he stood, Stenvar whom she knew quite well from back when she had lived in the inn, with a unusually gloomy look on his face. The market place had suddenly become very quiet. And something had begun to flare up in her chest, a flame of passion and frustration.

"Haven't we been through enough? We've survived a war and now we continue fighting amongst ourselves?"

More uncomfortable silence. Someone cleared his throat.

"How would you feel if he treated your daughter, your sister like this? Would you just stand by as well?" She heard her own voice, loud and determined, echoing over the market and wondered briefly where those words came from.

Maybe she wasn't only talking to them - maybe she was talking to herself, too.

Maybe if she had not felt so guilty before, she wouldn't have done anything, either.

It didn't matter now.

"We're not enemies and we should be helping each other in times like this but instead you just watch and let men like him get out of control! When will you realize that we _are_ one people and if they hurt _them,_ they hurt all of us! Is that so hard to see?"

Silence. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. From the corner of her eye, she noticed two city guards strolling over to them and was almost glad for it seemed, she had used up all her words and the flame slowly died down again

"What's the matter here, eh?" She bit her lip to suppress a cry of frustration. Oh, _now_ they bothered to demean themselves and intervene?!

His companion eyed up Rolff who was staring at Elaine with mixture of confusion and smouldering hatred. "Take it easy, man", the guard said slowly. "Let her go, will ya?" Rolff growled enraged but finally complied. The girl let out a convulsive sob and rubbed her arm where he had held her.

"Damn gray skin stole from me!", he snarled.

"Easy enough to find out.", the second guard shrugged, "Empty your pockets, girl." The Dunmer's eyes flashed anxiously from the guard to Elaine who nodded curtly while trying hard to swallow the insults she wanted to hurl at the guards. "It's going to be alright. Just… do what they say." _Those arrogant obnoxious - …_

With shaking hands, the girl turned the pockets of her dress inside out. All that came to light was some dried mountain flowers, a letter that the guards scanned quickly, approved as harmless and handed back to her, and a few fluffs; she didn't even have any money on her - which was lucky for Rolff would have probably insisted it was his. "See?" Elaine slowly exhaled and raised her chin to look in the drunk's face. He trembled with fury and for a moment she thought he might actually hit her. Then one guard stepped between them and slapped him comradely on the shoulder. "C'mon, man. We'll take ya home."

Elaine watched them walk away, Rolff in the middle, staggering and wobbling from time to time, until they vanished around a corner. Only when the feeling of relief flashed through her, she noticed how tense she had still been.

While behind, people were slowly beginning to move again, murmuring quietly among themselves, Elaine turned to the Dunmer girl who stood at the exact same spot, still scared stiff. ""Do you live at the inn?" She put as much gentleness in her voice as she could possibly manage. The young one hesitated a moment, then nodded shakily. "Y-yes. Thank you…"

"I'll escort you back there." She turned to leave and waited for the Dunmer to follow. "You might want to take someone with you next time you walk around. He's a bastard but he is not so tough when there's two of you."

At least she sincerely hoped that would work. Maybe Rolff wouldn't get back at the girl because she was just a random encounter - but he would definitively not forget how Elaine had humiliated him in front of all those people. And, to top it all off, her little speech…There would be consequences, one way or another, that much was certain. When he felt cornered, that man was like a crazed animal. She'd have to be careful.

* * *

The consequences came sooner than she had expected.

She had gotten back to the palace, taken a long hot bath and then sat at her desk over some books, when a servant knocked on her door and told her the king wanted to see her immediately.

He never sent for her this late. This wasn't good.

She went from her The door to his chambers was open. Ulfric was standing at the window in front of his desk, with his back to her. He turned around when Elaine knocked slightly, and eyed her, frowning, a grim look on his face.

Definitively not good at all.

"You wanted to see me, my king?"

"Close the door."

She obeyed without a word, then waited quietly until he turned around to face her.

"What in Oblivion do you think you were doing?"

His sharp tone made her flinch for a second. "I… don't think I did anything wrong, Mylord."

"You _don't_ _think _you did _anything wrong_?"

Being addressed like this, she felt own resentment break forth, and clenched her teeth together in an attempt to stop herself. Which wasn't working too well. "In case you're referring to me helping the girl on the market before that damn bastard could hurt her, then no - I didn't do anything wrong. Do you know how _long_ it took your guards to even think about intervening? Does that man have to _kill _someone before you do something?"

"Watch your tongue, woman", Ulfric snarled, "It's not for you to decide what the guards do or don't do. They have enough to deal with, I can't have them intervene any time one of the elves gets himself in trouble. "

"In _trouble_? You're letting some lunatics run loose in the streets and terrorize your people!"

The king slammed his fist on the table, sending scrolls and papers scattering in all directions. "Do you have any idea what kind of situation you put me in? I can't let you walk around and give _speeches_ like that to my people-"

"Oh, wait, the Dunmer aren't your people, then? Some of them have lived here longer than you, but no, in your opinion, they don't belong here, for some reason! It's ridiculous!"

In a part of her mind she knew contradicting the king would only anger him more. But - _'getting in trouble'? _Did he have _any idea_ what he was talking about?

The sparks in his grey eyes turning into a roaring fire. "Talk to me again in that way and I'll send you straight to prison, do you understand me? You don't get to tell me how to rule_ my _city."

"Oh no_, of course_ not." That little rational part of her mind knew exactly that this wasn't wise, that he would not hesitate to punish her, but she was seething with anger now and couldn't stop herself. "You don't let _anyone_ tell you what to do. After all, you're king now, so you think you know it all, don't you?" Her voice grew louder with every word.

He made two steps in her direction and planted himself in front of her. Almost two heads taller, he towered over her, in an unmistakably threatening manner. Instead of backing away and apologizing, like her rational self would have done (that part of her that_ did_ care if she went to prison or not), she stared up to him, defiant and challenging, hands clenched to fists.

"I won't let any damn girl who comes along tell me what to do", he growled her , "You're forgetting your place."

"Believe me, _my king_, any girl who comes along could rule Windhelm better than you.", she hissed in return, now fuming with rage.

_By the Divines, this is really bad…_

His gaze pierced into her eyes. „Is that so?"

„You know what, no, actually, Windhelm would be _better off_ with any girl who comes along!"

His voice was like the roll of thunder, as he scowled down at her furiously. "Then maybe you should have let me die in Solitude, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, maybe I should have let you die!"

She regretted her words the moment they came out. No matter how angry she was – this was too harsh, it was unfair and most of all, it wasn't true. But she had said it and there was no way of taking it back.

For a second - that seemed like eternity to her – he stared down at her with grinding jaws, and that little part of her mind that wasn't boiling with fury and could still think clearly wondered anxiously what he would do now…

A brief, brisk pull at her arm and she stumbled against his broad chest. Instinctively, she digged her fingers into the fur of his coat to keep her from falling but his hands were already there to prevent that, wrapping tightly around her waist, pulling her even closer. His lips came down on hers in a rush, the kiss was harsh and fierce, almost brutal, as if he needed to _conquer _her.

Her first impulse was to push him away and yell at him again, and that would also have been the rational thing to do, but unfortunately, her knees had already turned to water. Even if that - now very tiny - part of her mind knew that this was wrong, very wrong, it couldn't stop the heat that suddenly flared in her stomach and spread through the rest of her body like a firestorm. Dimly, she remembered the first evening of the Moot, and she thought, half amused and half vexed at herself, how she had _promised _herself that she _wouldn't_ let him wrap her around his finger, that she wouldn't be one of those naïve young girls he took into his bed.

_Well, that didn't work out that well, did it?_

Fingers clutched into his shoulders, her body pressed against his, she kissed him back and leeched on to him as if she was drowning. She felt him tense even more, it was hardly to miss how much he wanted her. Instinctively grounding her hips against his - Gods, what was she _doing_? - earned her a muffled moan from him.

Then his lips were gone and left a dark hole of unfulfilled desire that let her tremble. She shivered and slowly opened her eyes, to look up to him, his eyes piercing into hers and looking right into her soul. The same longing was in them that she felt herself, simmering want… and a question.

She was sure this was a mistake, no good would come of this, she shouldn't give in to him, at least not like this - but that small rational part of her mind had already given in.

Her fingers grasped his coat again and pulled him down to meet for his lips to meet hers again.

Ulfric picked her up, in a fluid motion, he never even had to break the kiss, and her skirt rode up to her hips as she wrapped her legs around him in return. Stumbling, knocking over an empty jar and more than one candlesticks, they made their way to the bed.

They sank - or rather_ fell_ onto the pillows, and she didn't even try to stop the moan from escaping her throat. Their fingers ripped frantically at each other's clothes, his weight and his hands on her,_ everywhere_, made her shiver with pleasure. She closed her eyes, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, and clung on to him for dear life and herself be swept away.

* * *

_[A/N: Look at those two being all fluffy and romantic. By the way, did I get the color of Ulfric's eyes wrong? I'm not sure I remembered that correctly but I was too lazy to do research. Oh, well._

_Also, reviews are very much appreciated, cuddled to death and frequently made love to.]_


	14. Chapter 14

**STORMCROW - XIV**

* * *

_When at last the rightful claim of Saarthal had been retaken, driving the murderous elves back to their lofty cities,  
did great Ysgramor turn and let loose the fearsome war cry that echoed across all the oceans.  
The Five Hundred who yet stood joined in the ovation for the victory and the lament for their fallen peers.  
It was said to be heard on the distant and chilling green shores of Atmora  
and the ancestors knew their time had come to cross the seas._

_As the reverberations echoed out and drowned to silence,  
all looked to Ysgramor, who bore the blessed Wuuthrad, for his next commandment.  
With his lungs that bellow forth the fury of humanity, he bade them to continue their march,  
that the devious Mer might know the terror they had brought on themselves with their trickery._

_"Go forth," he roared. "Into the belly of this new land. Drive the wretched from their palaces of idleness.  
Oblige them to squalor and foil, that they would see their betrayals as the all-sin against our kind.  
Give no quarter. Show no kindness.  
For they would not give nor show you the same."_

- Songs of the Return, Vol 7

* * *

The ceiling was blurring before her eyes. She laid on her back, blinking to clear the haze in her sight, trying hard to catch her breath, and not able to move with every muscle in her body limp from the lingering echo of lust and desire.

Beside her, Ulfric equally struggled to becalm his breathing. When the pent-up tension had finally left him and he'd shuddered above her, as her hands flaccidly stroke over his broad back, he had buried his face in the crook of her neck, and the way he had whispered her name had made her quiver with pleasure. Then he'd sunk back onto the mattress and asked her with a husky voice if he had hurt her and as she breathlessly shook her head - forming words still impossible - she had briefly thought it must have been longer for him than she would have imagined. She did feel sore, though in a very pleasant way, and she had repaid him for it by leaving long, red scratches on his back and shoulders that were still visible.

Elaine tried to remember if she had ever felt something like this before but she had a hard time forming a thought since her head was still swimming with sensation - this probably answered the question anyway.

Minutes passed as they tried to regain composure. When Elaine found the strength to roll on her side and wrap a blanket around her, her head resting on her arm, Ulfric had steadied down as well. The room was dark, only the light of a candle on the desk and the gleaming embers in the fireplace threw flickering shadows on the walls. In the awkward silence, they stole a glance at each other, and in his eyes she read the same question and uncertainty, and, at the same time, inner calmness that she felt herself. She had been with men, before Ulfric and before Saif, and never had the question _'What now?' _ lingered in the room afterwards. She had either gone to sleep without much of a fuss, or simply left, since her lovers had never been men she was eager to make conversation with. This was different. The feeling was new but, she reflected, not as uncomfortable as it probably could have been.

They stayed like this for a while, laying side by side instead of each other's arms; and still, the warmth radiating from his body caressed her like a warm embrace. This was not particularly romantic, but it was nice in its own way.

Her thoughts began to wander back to their fight, and she hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "Are you willing to listen to me now?"

Only after the words came out, she wondered if this, maybe, was not the best idea. It felt a bit like trading something she wanted for sharing his bed, and she defied the thought of _selling_ herself like this. Then again, she didn't _demand_ anything from him now - they were simply finishing their conversation. There was no reason to attach too much importance to this… interruption.

Ulfric moaned slightly and tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. "Ysmir's beard, woman, you will be the death of me." Still, he pushed himself up a bit and stuffed a pillow behind his back. "Fine, then. You might as well speak your mind."

Elaine sat up as well so she wouldn't have to look up to him, and pulled the sheets tightly around her to restore a certain level of decency. And so he might not be too distracted to actually listen to her words... "Thank you."

Now what was left was the question how to convince him that he was wrong in this.

_'You have a way of talking to him…'_

_'I will not whitewash what I think only because you might disagree with me.' - 'I would expect nothing less from you.'_

"I apologize for what I said.", she began. That seemed like a good start. "I respect the decisions you made. I know you had your reasons at the time. But... don't you think it might be time to reevaluate the situation? Things have changed."

Unimpressed, he shook his head curtly. "Not as much as you think. The Dark Elves are refugees and thus, I tolerate them. They should be grateful for the shelter we give them. But this is not their home. Skyrim belongs to the Nords."

Oh Divines, this again… She inwardly counted to three before continuing; another outburst would get her nowhere, so she tried to put as much peacefulness in her voice as possible. "Does it? We were refugees ourselves once. Thousands of years ago, we fled from a war and came here from far north, and called this land 'Mereth', after its inhabitants."

_'We'. Father was probably right; the Nord in me is much stronger than the Breton._

Ulfric cocked his eyebrows. "Well, you obviously know your history. Then you must also know that the elves betrayed us even back then, and slaughtered us like animals."

"Yes", she said slowly, "we came to their land and tried to live in peace with them but they showed us no kindness. Doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Are you comparing us to the Snow Elves, now?", he growled resentful and she was quick to shake her head.

"All I am saying is we should make sure history does not repeat itself and for that, we have to find away to live together in peace."

"Is that not what we do? I could have sent them back to where they came from. Instead, I provided them with a home, though the Gods know how many spies I have invited in the process."

"You have them live in a slum. That is not the same as hospitality."

His face darkened. "What reason do I have to show them any more kindness?"

Since he would listen to what history told them, she tried another approach. "Look at it this way: You already have enough enemies at your throat. You don't want put your own people at odds with you. Especially not at your own doorstep."

"So you're saying they are brewing treason."

"No", she repeated patiently. "I'm saying desperate people take desperate actions. I'm saying you don't want a riot in your own city because they feel treated unjustly." _They don't just feel treated that way, you actually treat them like dirt. _Saying this to his face would probably hurt her cause, though. "You don't want them to plot treason - so make sure they have no reason to despise you."

He was watching her quietly and the displeased, yet thoughtful look on his face told her she was on the right track. "It matters not if you believe they belong her. You have to be pragmatic, and gaining their loyalty will prove more beneficial for you than keeping them under a yoke. A king has power over his people but the people have just as much power over their king. It is wiser to rule with love than with fear."

When she felt silently, Ulfric slowly shook his head and rubbed a hand over his bearded cheek. "What would you have me do, then?"

_Maybe start with not acting like a fool._

"I don't ask of you to change everything over night. For now, let me renovate the Gray Quarter. We can spare the coin, and I promise you, it will be worthwhile. I'll oversee the operations myself."

He stayed silent for a while; the crease on his forehead told her he was not happy at all with this, but at least he considered her suggestion. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her, he sighed. "I'll think about it. And that is all I promise you for now."

From the tone of his voice it was obvious that further arguing would get her nowhere. It was a start, at least. In time, he would see she was right, and then she would start talking about the Argonians at the dock. But for now, she had stretched his patience enough.

_'If you think that not all hope is lost with him, then I'll trust your judgment.'_

Elaine smiled softly as she returned his gaze. While she despised his attitude in the matter, she couldn't help but feel that her affection was not wasted on him. Under the contempt and bitterness for the elves, which, she was sure, had come from those bad experiences he had made over the years, he was a good man. He simply needed a little nudge in the right direction. "Thank you."

Since they had more or less solved this issue, there was nothing left to talk about for now, and the silence again felt a little awkward. _Now what?_ Elaine hesitantly turned to the side to leave the bed. "Do you want me to…?"

He laid a hand on her arm and gently pulled her back. It was the first touch since they had broken apart a while ago; and again, a shiver ran down her spine, and she cursed herself a little for her weakness.

"Please, stay – if you want to, that is."

She wondered briefly how many women he had said that to, and a moment later she hated herself for feeling a sting of jealousy.

_Nonsense. _

She fought the thought back as laid back down, this time was his arm around her and her head on his shoulder. "Tell me", he grumbled and she felt the vibrations of his deep voice humming on her cheek, "Where did you learned to argue like this?"

A warm smile lit up her face. "When I was a little girl, on some evenings the kitchen of our house was something like a gathering place. My father invited others over, mostly men from the neighborhood, sometimes travelers he had met at the inn or who had come to his shop. They sat in the kitchen and discussed…. well, almost everything. Politics, mostly, things that happened in town, even religion. I used to sneak out of bed and sit on the stairs to listen in." She smirked in memory of this. "I didn't understand much but it was fascinating. I remember I had to get up and hide very quickly when they'd had too much mead and the discussion became too loud because my mother used to walk over to them to hush them. One day she caught me, and when she told my father I thought he would be angry but instead, from that day on, he brought me down to the kitchen every time they gathered there and sat me on a chair in the corner so I could listen better."

His broad chest vibrated in a quiet laugh under her cheek. "Your father was a smart man."

"He was. And he always wanted us to learn to think for ourselves."

His fingers trailed the line of her neck, her collarbone, and gently down along the necklace with her amulet - the only thing she had not taken off. "Was it him who taught you the worship of Talos?"

His touch left a burning trail on her skin and left her breathless for a moment. Gods, what had he done to her… "It was. We had a shrine in a cupboard, and he was never quiet about the god he prayed to." Elaine smiled, immersed in the memory of her father's gentle eyes and her own feeling of wonder when he had first told her about the man who took his seat among the Divines. "They even arrested him once, though we never found out who denounced him. Luckily, the Justiciars didn't think he was much of a threat."

"He was a brave man and he raised his daughter equally spirited."

Her smile widened at the remark, a bit abashed, but with a feeling of proudness nonetheless. "Thank you."

She felt Ulfric's lips on her temple and closed her eyes, smiling and suddenly with a pleasant feeling of peace. She could definitively get used to this… Listening to his steady heartbeat, watching the flame of the candle throw flickering flames on the wall, she thought about how much her life had changed, how far she had come. She had never felt any ambition for wealth or power or anything like that, and now she was telling a king what was right and wrong. If someone had told her a year ago what turns her life would take she would have laughed. And yet, here she was.

_'You have great things ahead of you…'_

With a smile on her lips, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_[A/N: I think, I'll have to edit this again tomorrow, right now I'm at a point where I just read over any errors. You may throw a tomato at me for every dumb mistake you found. _

_I have to say, Ulfric never struck me as a blunt racist - at least not the 'I want to punch you in the face' kind (probably due to the lack of dialogue with him on the subject - or did I just miss that? I guess I skipped over a lot of lines in the game.) A supremacist, but one who could be, under the right circumstances, reasoned with. Which is what I went for. I hope it makes some sense and I would very much love to read what you think, so please leave a review! And now I'll get back to my well-deserved vacation with sunshine and cocktails. ;3 See you next week! ]_


	15. Chapter 15

**STORMCROW - XV**

* * *

_Another day in this carnival of souls  
Another night sets in as quickly as it goes  
The memories are shadows; ink on the page  
And I can't seem to find my way home_

_All the places I've been and things I've seen  
A million stories that made up a million shattered dreams  
The faces of people I'll never see again  
And I can't seem to find my way home_

- Five Finger Death Punch

* * *

He watches her from the corner where he leans at a wall, not completely invisible, but well hidden in the shadows. She hurries back and forth, elegantly circumventing piles of bricks and planks, between workmen who bring more construction material and carry it off to where it's needed. The sounds of hammering and sawing, shouts and talk and laughter fill the air; the quarter buzzes like a beehive. When he first arrived, he could hardly believe his eyes. Sure, the city is more busy than ever, that didn't surprise him. What he had not expected was to see the Gray Quarter shine in new splendor. There's still much too be done but he can see, when they are finished, it will be as good as new. He has no idea how she managed to convince the Jarl - no, apparently, he is a king now - to allow that. He wouldn't have thought it possible. Still, here she is. And she thrives in her new role.

He smiles to himself as he remembers the words he'd told her when he last saw her. She is destined for greater things - he knew that the moment he first saw her, even though she was scared to death at the time. It was something he noticed in her eyes, he remembers; a fire, a flame. Something similar to the _dovah _in himself. Not as demanding and violent. Instead, more dignified and steady - but, in its own way, just as powerful. Something divine. He wonders if she feels it yet, as he had felt the dragon awakening. Maybe, he thinks, it's the reason why he has come back here though he has no other ties to this city.

Maybe the _dovah_ is drawn to her because he has recognized her as equal.

He continues to follow her with his eyes, absorbing every movement she makes, the way strands of her dark hair have come loose from her braid and how she slides them back behind her ears repeatedly; her vigorous gestures when she talks to the craftsmen, how she always has a smile for everyone. There's a glow on her face that becomes even stronger when she smiles or laughs which she does very often. She seems to swan, to float gracefully instead of simply walking, as if the earth could not hold her down. As she swings past him, very closely, he can see her eyes sparkling like flawless sapphires. Although she doesn't really notice him, he feels her gaze resting on him for a second and it's enough to throw him off balance.

She hasn't recognized him. No one has, because he doesn't want them to. He knows how to move around without people realizing who he is. His cloak is worn and dirty as one of a beggar, he has pulled the hood deep into his face and he even moves a bit hunched when he walks so he looks older. And if he wants to vanish, the shadows will hide him.

She doesn't know he is in town; in fact, no one knows that he is back. That it is done. He is supposed to report to the Jarl in Whiterun as soon as he returns, but he has yet to do that. Before he comes back officially, he wants to see how much the world has changed while he was gone. He isn't even sure how long it has been - could be day or weeks or even months.

In Sovngarde, time follows different rules than in the world of the living.

He thinks about getting over there and talking to her but she looks so happy and content. He doesn't want to disturb her in that. She has done what he'd told her to do - not to wait for him, to move forward. She has a life of her own, and he knows, even if he wanted to, he could never be truly a part of her world. He is too damaged, and his soul is too much torn apart.

He envies her for what she does here - building something. He has never done that, has never _created _anything. All he has ever known is to destroy. Maybe he should, after all, buy that piece of land, build a house, with a garden and a stable. Then again, how often would he stay there, anyway? Once a year? Twice? The dragon soul doesn't allow him to settle. When he dwells in one place for too long, he gets restless, until it becomes too painful to stay and he has to move on. It has been like this for all his life but it has become worse since he came to Skyrim. And with every dragon soul he devours, the _dovah _in him becomes stronger. And the man that shares a body with the beast grows weaker.

He longs for what she has - a stable life, friends, family. A home. But he knows better than to complain; things are the way they are and no amount of wail will change that. He doesn't know if it's destiny or the will of the gods - he doesn't even know if he believes in the gods anymore. If the child of a deity can be killed, can the god himself, who has bestowed the gift of a dragon soul upon him, be killed as well? And if he can be killed - is he still a god, or just another mortal being? What is it, then, that makes him divine?

He shakes off the thought, it's useless to ponder over these things. What he knows is that the kind of life she has is not for him and he has accepted that long ago. He is happy for her, though. She deserves this.

Maybe he should talk to her after all…

As he tries to make up his mind, from the corner of his eye he sees a movement on the end of the street. Someone shouts, people are turning around, guards who lazily loafed about suddenly standing at attention.

He glances over to the cause of all this and cocks an eyebrow. Well, that's certainly quite a surprise. Who would have thought the great Bear himself would show his face in this part of town? Apparently, neither workmen nor residents have expected this - especially not the Dunmer; he can hear them talking and whispering, astounded, some friendly, some not so much. The Dumner he recognizes as the owner of the small tavern around the corner grumbles something to the woman next to him, who laughs and gives him a nudge with the elbow, "I told you she'd convince him - now you owe me five septims, Ambarys."

He is sure he knows whom they are talking about, and his intuition is confirmed when Elaine hastens over there to greet the king. His smile vanishes abruptly and his eyes grown dark as he watches her welcoming him with a modest curtsey, and how the man offers her his arm in return. The way her cheeks bloom as she accepts, her breathless smile, the glances the king steals at her when she doesn't look at him - it tells him everything he needs to know.

The dragon begins to stir and growl but he manages to shut it up before it becomes too loud in his head.

He doesn't understand why he came here; what did he think he would accomplish? She has done exactly what he told her to. She looks so happy. He has no right to interfere in her life. Gods be damned, he doesn't even _know_ her. They have only met twice - he knows nothing about her, really, and she knows even less about him. Why did he presume she'd want to see him again? It's obvious she hasn't wasted a thought on him. It was only one night, anyway, and though he can't get it out of his head, it does not mean she has any obligations towards him.

He shouldn't be angry. Shouldn't be _jealous_. He is, but he shouldn't be. Coming here was a mistake. It's time for him to fulfill his duty again, instead of giving in to some ridiculous adolescent infatuation. His face a stern mask under the hood, as he pushes himself from the wall where he is standing and makes his way towards the city gate. No one even notices him leaving. Minutes later, he rides north, pushing his horse to a furious gallop, and desperately wishes for some bandits stupid enough to attack him now, so he can vent his rage on them.

Unfortunately, that doesn't happen, and for the whole journey to Whiterun, he grits his teeth while the _dovah_ howls and raves in him with insensate fury.

* * *

This was a bad idea. Absolutely ridiculous. Why had she even thought it would work? Why had she listened to Wuunferth in the first place?

The old mage was either crazy or he truly _was _the one they called 'The Butcher' and had brutally slaughtered all those young women… She had been down there, in the Hall of the Dead, she had seen the marks on their bodies. She knew she wouldn't be able to get these images out of her mind for a long time. And she hated the nickname people had given the bastard who had done this. As if these girls had been led like lambs to the slaughter. It was awful.

In the end, Elaine had listened to the mage's excited elucidations because she could not believe he would do something horrible like this. Or maybe she didn't want to believe it. Sure, he was a grumpy old man who grouched at her when she wanted to borrow a book from him and generally mistrusted her abilities - maybe because she was a woman, or maybe it was some kind of rivalry, which was ridiculous since what she did best was completely different from his field of expertise. So, he held a little grudge against her and she didn't find him particularly likeable - but, a killer? A necromancer? She simply couldn't believe that. And though Jorleif had given the order to arrest the court mage, he had seemed uncertain about this whole thing as well. But the evidence was overwhelming and the steward had been too relieved to finally have the matter under control to stir around in it anymore.

So, in the end, she had went down to the prison cells herself and talked to Wuunferth, and he had told her about him researching the murders as well and of the patterns he had found.

And that was how she had ended up here, in the market place in the middle of the night, pretending to wait for someone. She had convinced her brother to get one of his fellows from the guard and come down and help her - he had complained a bit because he had the night off and had made plans to spend it at the inn, but the chance of impressing a certain girl, who right now was sound asleep in the palace, had convinced him.

The only problem was that their plan didn't seem to work. She had been waiting for over two hours for 'The Butcher' to show himself – or herself, for all they knew – shivering despite her thick cloak, walking back and forth and stomping her feet against the cold, and cursing herself for doing something so foolish. Her brother and his friend were waiting behind a small wall, outside of the circles of light the torches painted into the night, so the murderer wouldn't spot them.

What daedra had possessed her that she'd volunteer as bait? The whole thing was exceptionally stupid.

Then again, it gave her time to think.

The last few weeks had been exhausting for her but she was content with what she had accomplished – the renovation of the Gray Quarter was finally complete and she had frequently discussed with the king whether the Argonians should be allowed into the city. It would take some more convincing and she knew he still held no sympathy at all for either them or the Dunmer; fighting over it, though, would get her nowhere. If she tried to at least _appear_ noncommitted and argue in a pragmatic way to show him the benefits it would bring him – then he'd come around eventually. Her strategy had worked before, after all. He might be cruel against other races but all in all, he wanted only the best for his country, and she knew how to use that to her advantage.

Unfortunately, that was where things stopped being simple and easy.

Ever since she had spent the night with Ulfric, the king had distanced himself from her. Their meetings were only as long as necessary and ended much more brusquely then before. Even when he had come down to the Gray Quarter for her to show him _"how she was spending his coin",_ as he had put it - even then he had not spent one minute longer with her than absolutely necessary. And left her stewing over the question why he had bothered to come down to see her in the first place.

There were no more long, heated arguments, no more shared smiles when they voiced the same thought at the same time, no more sitting in front of the fireplace with some cups of wine watching the flames eat away the logs of wood while he dictated her a letter or encouraged a discussion. Now, he would have none of that any more. He either told her he was occupied or simply intimate her that she was excused without an explanation. It made her feel ill at ease and she brooded over what she could have done wrong.

Or maybe it was all in her head.

Either way, it was eating away at her, and she hated herself for feeling that way, and she hated him for _making _her feel like this in equal measure - no, actually, him, she hated a little bit more. After all, _she_ wasn't the one acting different. She would have been perfectly fine if things had simply gone back to normal between them. What was it with men that made them so utterly obnoxious and insufferable sometimes? And it was not like she had _thrown_ herself at him, no, _he_ had kissed her first, and now he couldn't even _pretend_ as if nothing had happened, the bloody idiot –

A noise behind her made her jump and turn around on her heel, and for a moment she stared into the darkness, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. _Nothing._ The market lay as quiet as before. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her brother raising his arm slightly at the hiding place where he and his friend endured. In the dark, she could not see their faces but she was fairly sure that even if the idea of being Windhelm's heroes for bringing 'The Butcher' to justice appealed them very much and even though they didn't seem to mind the cold as much as she did, by now they were fed up and willing to give up on their scheme. As was Elaine herself. She was tired and cold, and now she was imagining things, too. _Maybe it was just a skeever._

When she turned back around, the first thing she saw was knife flashing in the torch light. Her heart stood still and a silent gasp escaped her but the cry for help stuck in her throat. The man strode closer with a few steps, a crazed glint in his eyes that frighteningly reminded her of Rolff Stone-Fist. Then the flickering light fell on his face. She knew the man. _Calixto. _When she opened her mouth to shout, he suddenly shoved forward, knife upheld, it missed her throat by an inch. Her limbs were frozen in shock and panic, her eyes wide with fear, as he came at her - and then he screamed and stumbled backwards; his knife fell to ground, he clutched his arm instead and his voice cracked from rage. "You cut me! You cut me!"

Staggering, she made a step backwards and noticed the dagger her numb fingers clasped so hard her knuckles had turned white, blood dripping from the blade; she hadn't even realized she had drawn it."You're going to pay for that, wench!" Calixto's scream snapped her back into the moment but before he could move towards her again, Ivar and his companion had reached them. "Oh no, you're coming with me, bastard.", the guard growled, grabbing the Imperial's arm and yanking them behind his back. Calixto howled in pain and began to scream again. "She cut me, she-"

"I did, didn't I?"

Anger washed over her as she watched him staring at her, his distorted with rage, but in his eyes she saw disbelief - and fear, the same fear she had felt seconds ago. The same fear all those women must have felt when he plunged his knife into their hearts.

In her mind, she could see the cuts he'd made on their bodies, where he'd marked them. Disfigured them. _Butchered_ them. Blazing hatred boiled up in her stomach.

"See how that feels?", she hissed and stepped closer to the man, dagger raised to his face until the sharp blade almost touched his cheek. Ignoring her brother stepping to her side, she pierced the tip into Calixto's cheek, her eyes boring into his. He wanted to back away but the guard was holding him tightly; all he could to was trying to turn his head so she wouldn't put his eye out. "This is what they felt when you killed them. Did you enjoy it? Did you _enjoy _cutting them open, you sick son of bitch, you-"

He smiled. He actually _smiled_.

"They were petty wenches, just like you.", he snarled, voice trembling a bit, but still full of despite. "They were lucky to serve as a resource, they'd thank me if they knew-"

"Shut your filthy mouth." The guard yanked Calixto around, away from Elaine who made a hasty step back, and pushed him down the street. "You're going to the block tomorrow. Hope you look forward to rot in Oblivion."

She stared after them, unable to move.

_'Petty wenches, just like you.'_

_'They'd thank me.'_

"Elaine."

Ivar's voice brought her back into the moment; she realized she was stilling holding up the dagger and dropped her hand. The rage in her was gone as quickly as it had come, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water onto the fire in her stomach. "I…" She lowered her eyes to look at the weapon. She couldn't remember the moment when she had drawn it but it had probably saved her life.

_That would make it three times that you've saved me, Saif. I wish I could repay you somehow. _

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, we should've been quicker."

"I'm fine." Shaking off the thought, she took a deep breath and managed to smile at him. "I guess we got him."

"Yeah, we did." Her little brother didn't sound much jubilant, though. He also stared after the murderer, being led off towards the palace. "I'm glad he'll be punished for what he's done. Creeps me out. The way he looked at you…" His voice trailed away and he shifted uncomfortable.

Elaine realized she had been holding her breath and exhaled slowly. "I know what you mean. I don't understand what he did… why he killed all those girls. Maybe they will find something in his house."

Ivar shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. "_I'm_ definitively not going in there. I heard he's beinbodiesg doing some stuff to them, you know-"

"Don't!", she cut him off, "Please, I don't even want to think about it." Helgird had shown her what the killer had cut out. Taken with him. Maybe stored it somewhere…

"Well - I guess we're gonna be the heroes of the city."

Elaine couldn't help but laugh, though it still sounded a little shaky. Never had she been so grateful for her brother's ability to cheer her up. "Most likely."

"You know what, we should celebrate that. And - I don't know - maybe say a toast to the girls he killed. Would be nice to honor them, you know? Want to go over to Candlehearth Hall? It's not that late."

That wasn't a bad idea. It was nice of him to think of the women. And she could use a drink. Or maybe two. "I'd like that. I just have to ask Elda for some water. I got some blood on my sleeve. Not mine, luckily." She held up her arm to show him and her brother carefully took the dagger from her hand and wiped it clean, before handing it back to her. "Why did you buy a weapon, anyway?"

"I didn't buy it. It was a gift. From a friend."

That was not a particularly accurate description but she had no idea how else to put her relationship - if you could call it that - with the Dragonborn into words. She would definitively not go into details about it - and especially not in front of her baby brother.

* * *

By the time they had reached the inn and Elda Early-Dawn had brought Elaine some water to clean herself up, she still found her thoughts lingering with him, and it felt like a strange coincidence when she walked up to the inn's second floor which was uncommonly crowded for this time of day. Luaffyn was playing a familiar tune and there wasn't just the usual sound of muffled conversations; instead everyone was talking across each other loudly and cheerfully, laughter and cheers filled the room. Elaine squeezed through the crowd until she found Ivar waving at her from a small table where he sat with Stenvar and another man she didn't recognize. "Dear gods, what is going on here? Is Elda giving away free drinks?" She sat down and Stenvar slid a tankard of mead towards her, grinning at her. "Haven't you heard? The Dovahkiin has returned. He has defeated the World Eater."

Her hand, reaching for the tankard, froze and hovered motionless in mid-air.

_Saif._

"What - but - how do you know? When did this happen?"

The old mercenary slouched back in his chair. "People say he came back to Whiterun few days ago. Say he's been to Sovngarde." He shook his head in astonishment and continued, what an experience it must have been to see the wonders of the afterlife and return to tell the tale. Ivar hung on the man's every word; Elaine, on the other hand, was miles away.

He was back.

Relief flooded through her. It was strange how little she had been worried about the threat that had been Alduin. That Nirn might be torn apart - that was something so horrible and terrifying but unthinkable at the same time. Unimaginable. About Saif, she had worried from time to time, sometimes even feared for him, but never had she thought of what the consequences for all of them if he'd fail. That had seemed too far away from her own life.

But he had succeeded. He had survived.

Maybe he would come back to Windhelm.

Her hand closed around the tankard and she gulped half the mead down. If he did come here, what would she say to him? Why would she even think he would seek her out? They hardly knew each other. And he was a hero, what would he want with her? Right now, he probably had a horde of beautiful girls from Whiterun dangling around him. But maybe - just maybe - he'd be here for some other business and they would run into each other again.

Her cheeks flushed at the thought of how she had almost thrown herself at him in this very room, and she poured down the rest of the mead, gladly accepting another tankard that someone put in front of her on the table. Her head was already swimming with dizziness but right now, drunkenness seemed to offer a blissful sensation. She most definitively needed some divertissement.

* * *

Some hours later, when the first light of dawn already appeared on the horizon, she found herself tumbling through the streets up to the palace, tripping over her own two feet repeatedly, with a hand for support on the stone walls lining the alleys which were, strangely enough, not straight anymore but instead running in serpentine lines. For a moment, she stopped, leaned against a wall and blinked a few times to slow down the spinning in her head when the world almost tilted on its axis. Maybe she should have left off that last bottle of mead.

Ivar was snoring at their table at Candlehearth Hall right now, along with several other drunkards, whom Elda hadn't bothered to throw out. Curling up on the floor and sleeping right there and then had been appealing, but then again - she was a lady, wasn't she? A very drunk, very much toddling lady, but a lady nonetheless. Or something in the line of this.

The guards in the courtyard grinned understandingly and helped her push the heavy door open. It fell shut behind her and she sighed relieved. Now she only had to make it to her room. Oh dear gods, the stairs… A hysteric giggle escaped her when her wobbly legs bumped into the wooden bench in the hall's center. Was this even the right way? Oh, no, she had missed the door, it was over there. But room was too dark, and it was pivoting to make it even harder for her to find her way.

When she turned around, she almost fell over her feet once again. Her hand reached out to the edge of the table to keep her from falling but missed it and she squeaked helplessly when she tumbled to the floor.

But instead of the cold stone, she felt a warm embrace, catching her and holding her up. She gasped in surprise - and then giggled again in embarrassment - but instinctively held on to her rescuer and found her balance again. When she managed to stand on her own feet, warm hands grabbed her shoulders, holding her in a firm grip and steadying her; she raised her head to see who saved her from falling and looked into an angrily distorted face and into a familiar pair of grey eyes, blazing with fury.

"What _in Oblivion_ did you think you were _doing_?"

* * *

_[A/N: Diving deeper into the love triangle…_

_A big thanks to all of you who have reviewed the last chapter - I wasn't quite sure if I did a good job, so I'm all the more happy you liked it. And you gave me some useful insights with your comments, so - thank you! :3 I hope you had fun with this as well, and I'd love to read what you think of the different POV, so, again, tell me what you think! _

_The next chapter's coming a bit slow and I'm working on a smaller side project as well, but I'll try to finish it by next week. See you then!]_


	16. Chapter 16

_[A/N: Hello again! I'm very sorry for the delay - I had the most terrible time with this chapter. Serious case of writer's block. Maybe because I'm not feeling particularly romantic myself these days. (So, yes, this chapter contains some fluff. Lots of fluff.)_

_A quick note: It's 3am and I'm uploading the chapter now because I just finished writing it and can't find any more errors for now. I will go over it again tomorrow in case I've missed some mistakes. _

_Nonetheless, I hope you have fun reading!]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XVI**

* * *

"What _in Oblivion_ did you think you were_ doing_?"

His fingers were digging into her shoulders, not so much it hurt, but it still made her feel highly uncomfortable, especially since he towered over her, angry lines on his face and his eyes sparking with rage. She had never seen him so furious. It was intimidating, and in a flash, it replaced her former giggly demeanor with the feeling of alarm and almost fright. Her voice sounded more than a little squeaking when she tried to find words for an answer. "What do you -… I didn't…"

Forming a sentence proved to be quite difficult in her drunken state and with him staring down at her in a demanding manner.

Ulfric was obviously not content with her answer. "Were you out of your mind? You could have been killed! Did you not even consider-" He stopped himself and pushed her away a little, still holding her firmly, to eye her closely. "Ysmir's beard, woman, you smell like the cellar of a meadery. How much have you drunk?"

She was listening to what he said - at least she was trying very hard - but couldn't quite grasp the meaning of the words. What she did know was that his grip was becoming more and more unpleasant, so she struggled slightly against it. It didn't really do much, he was far too strong for her, and she simultaneously struggled with keeping her balance. Anxiousness changed into frustration, she frowned at him and lifted her arms to shove him back which proved ineffective as well. "You're hurting me! Let me _go_!"

To her surprise, he obeyed immediately but didn't move an inch away from her. "If you ever do something so foolish again, woman, I swear I will lock you up in your rooms, do you understand? You actions were absolutely irresponsible."

Irresponsible? Foolish? How did he_ dare_ to talk to her like that? "What do you even care?" Feeling tears dwelling up in her eyes, she pushed him again, and again and again, growing more and more frustrated when it did absolutely nothing and he still didn't move. "You don't care about me anyway!"

At some point, he caught her wrist and held them at his chest. "You could have been killed", he repeated, only this time he sounded patient and almost gentle, and when she blinked up to him with tear-dimmed eyes, the anger on his face was gone.

Now she didn't know what to say. So instead, she raised herself on her toes and kissed him fiercely. It might have been more seductive if she hadn't lost her balance, stumbling against him and stubbing her forehead at his jaw. What would have normally left her humiliated now only made her giggle hysterically again.

Luckily, he was there again to hold her up; then he lifted her off her feet and scooped her up in his arms.  
"What are you doing, I can walk on my own! Let me _down_!"

She wriggled a bit but he started walking towards the door to the upper level, unimpressed by her efforts. "I'm trying to prevent you from falling down the stairs and hitting your head", he growled, "And you should lower your voice, you're waking the whole palace."

That silenced her for a while and she let him carry her up to her room without any more struggle. It was useless, anyhow… When he had gently put her down on her bed, however, she dug her fingers into the fabric of his clothes and pulled. It took him by surprise and though he didn't fall down to her as she had intended, she had at least caught him off guard for second, and used that moment to reach up and kiss him again. Nibbling on his lower lips, she forced her tongue into his mouth and snatched his face in her palms so he couldn't go anywhere. Finally, _finally_, he gave in and sank to the bed beside her, with his hands lightly resting on her hips. Not to give him the opportunity for second thoughts, she crawled onto his lap– though she had a hard time getting all her limbs to work properly – straddling him and working to tug the shirt out of his pants. She could feel his breath quicken at her lips and smiled, sure of victory, kissing him again with hunger.

Only when she started to unfasten his belt and unlace his breeches, he got hold of her wrists again and pulled back from her lips. "Elaine, stop…"

He sounded extraordinarily tormented and for a moment she only stared at him in disbelief. A knot formed in her stomach, burning mortification and anger. "Oh, so now you don't want me anymore? Am I not good enough for you? Or did you just get bored with me?"

"That is not-"

"Then _why _are you _ignoring_ me so hard? At least tell me what I did wrong!"

Tears burned in her eyes again. Ulfric gently picked her up and moved her from his lap to the mattress. "I assure you, you did nothing wrong."

"But you don't want me anymore…"

He fell silent for a while, putting in clothes back in place, and then eyeing her thoughtfully, until she could hardly bare it any longer. Then he leaned with his back against the wall behind her bed and sighed.

"You need someone young and whole. Not an old man torn by war. You deserve better." He pushed one of her dark curls back behind her ear. However gently, the gesture was somewhat sad. "I do not wish for you to get hurt. And it would not be right for me to share my burdens with you."

She stared at him with wide open eyes while her befogged mind tried to make sense of his words. This wasn't only about sharing his bed. This was about… _everything_. All those last weeks she had spent in agony, and now this confession…

What she was sure of was, however, that he was only telling her this because he thought she wouldn't remember any of it in the morning.

As she tried to wrap her head around it, she thought she began to understand what he meant. A leader's position, she realized, is a lonely one by nature. Lesser men might simply not want to share the benefits their position of dominion brought. Ulfric, on the other hand, was reluctant to let her into his life and thus load a responsibility on her she was not prepared to take because he cared for her, because he knew that all power comes with a price. The gesture was noble, and made her think even more highly of him, but that she could only begin to understand the weight he carried on his shoulders and that he did not want her to help him made her sad.

He shouldn't have to do this alone. She would not _let_ him do this alone. He had no right to close her out.

She didn't care what she _needed_. She wanted _him_.

"Ulfric Stormcloak…" She pulled herself together and managed to sit up straight on the bed beside him, though it took a while because her legs got all tangled up in her dress. When she finally straightened herself, she took his face in her palms and tried for her speech not to sound too slurred. "You might be a bear but you're also a lamb." He was watching her quietly, hands resting on her knees, with an earnest look on his face. When he stayed silent, she took it as a sign to continue. "I don't care what you say. You're not getting rid of me so easily. I'm not going to give up on you."

Then she couldn't think of anything else to say, so she fell silent and hoped he would answer something, anything… He didn't, but he put his hands over hers and softly pulled them down to his chest. When he rested his head back against the wall and looked at her so tired and full of sorrow, it almost broke her heart.

She wanted to make him smile so badly but with her head still swirling with dizziness, she couldn't think of anything else to do, so she leaned forward and kissed him again. This time it wasn't passionate but shakily and a bit clumsy, and only when he began to stroke away her tears she realized she was crying again. She didn't even know why– for him, maybe, or for herself because she wished so badly for things to be easier.

He murmured something in her ear that she didn't understand over her heavy sobs. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and he continued to caress her until her tears ran dry. When she finally calmed down, she was too exhausted and tired, her mind lulled by the fog of intoxication, to even feel ashamed. She felt his lips on her temple, huddled up to him and mumbled "Don't go", fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt so he would not even strike on the idea of leaving. Not only tonight, but ever.

She felt his chest rise in a sigh but he made no move to get up, only reached for the blanket to tuck her in. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"You have my word."

Relieved and lulled by his warmth, her eyes dropped and she drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

* * *

Her first awareness when she woke up was that her head hurt; it felt like a herd of mammoths was doing a little dance up there. Her mouth was bone dry and her body felt sticky, every single one of her limbs was aching. All in all, she'd definitively had better mornings. Was it even morning? She was afraid to look; the light would probably not do anything for her headache. When she finally opened her eyes just a little bit, someone was drilling a hole into her skull. Moaning, she pressed her palms to her eyes to ease the pain. Never again would she touch a drop of Elda's evil mead…

"Headache?"

Elaine flinched, blinked in surprise and turned her head slightly to see Ulfric standing in front of her bookcase, her copy of The Aetherium Wars in his hands. What was he- Then the memories of the night before washed over her. _Oh Divines._

_ "But I want you."_

_"You need someone young and whole. Not an old man torn by war. You deserve better."_

_"I'm not going to give up on you."_

_"Don't go."_

_"You have my word."_

For a moment, pain and malaise were forgotten, and replaced by the feeling of the blood rushing to her face and humiliation burning in her stomach. It was a good thing she was already lying down, otherwise her legs would have probably given in; and what would have been even better was if the earth would open up and swallow her right now. No, she would definitively never touch another drop of alcohol ever again.

"Thanks", she muttered when he continued to look at her with only a hint of concern. "I already have one. What time is it?"

"It's past noon, I believe." He carefully put the book back to its place. "You have quite the library here."

It took her a moment before she understood what he meant; only when she turned her face towards him again, she saw that he was still studying the shelf covering most of the walls in her room. "A mind needs books as a sword needs whetstone", she mumbled - apparently, there was still a bit of drunken wisdom in her - and finally found the strength to push herself up to a sitting position. Right now, her mind rather felt as if it needed a bucket of ice cold water. Every movement made her stomach turn and the pain in her skull drill a little deeper.

"That is very true."

The king poured a glass of water and brought it over to her. While she drank thankfully, he fetched two small leather-bound journals from the table, then sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "You might want to know that the man who attacked you was indeed the one who killed all those women."

She had almost forgotten about Calixto. Now the memory of the crazed look on his face and how close she had been to death made her shiver anxiously. "What will happen to him now?"

"He was executed this morning."  
"Good." The disdain and coldness in her own voice frightened her a little. Elaine wasn't someone to wish others harm but in this case, she couldn't feel sorry for the man. Not after she had seen what he had done to those girls. Not after he had told her to her face that they were just "petty wenches" to him. She felt glad he was dead.

"They found his journals. Unlike the first one, they seem authentic. I thought you would want to see them." When she stretched out her hand, Ulfric hesitated. "I must warn you, it's not a pleasant read." She snatched them out of his hand impatiently and started flipping through the pages. The words were swimming in her aching head and she had to read every page twice before she truly took in the meaning.

_…you will be with me again… I hope to soon bring your spirit back into my world, for it was you who loved this world so much, not I…._

"So he wanted to… to revive his sister?"

"It seems so. Don't tell me you are feeling sorry for him now. He almost killed you in cold blood."

"I know but…" She shook her head slowly, putting aside the small books and rubbing her temples to ease the pain. It hurt to think. A lot. "I'd say it makes it easier to understand. You know, that he didn't do it out of lust for blood. I can understand the love for a sibling. His acts are not less horrible, though, and I can't say I will miss him."

"Not many people will."

Silence fell between them that soon became embarrassing. There was something else they should probably talk about but neither of them wanted to broach the subject. Talking about the bestial acts of a murderer was easier… Elaine shifted uncomfortably on the bed, running her fingers through her ruffled hair, until she finally couldn't bare the awkwardness of the situation any more. "Listen… About last night... I have to apologize. I get... emotional when I'm drunk."

Ulfric interrupted her before she could put her thoughts into words. "You don't have to say anything. You were not yourself last night."

"I know." She took a sip and carefully placed the cup on the endtable to gain time and summon up the courage for her next words. "I meant what I said, though." She felt his gaze resting her but didn't have the heart to meet his eyes, afraid to see the look on his face. This conversation was awkward enough as it was.

"As did I." When he took her hand and she dared to glance up to him, his face was soft and his eyes warm. "I don't wish for you to get hurt."

Brows furrowed, she raised her chin in a resolute manner. "What exactly are you saying?

"Even now I have more enemies than friends." His thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand. "I don't feel concerned about my own life but I do worry about your well-being."

She blinked at him in a baffled way for a few moments before his words sank in. "Are you… Are you being serious? Because if I was beginning to bore you, you can just say so, I will not be offended."

"That is not true. Right now, anyone close to me is potentially in danger. The Imperials would rather see me dead, the Thalmor are at my neck as well… I don't want to worry you too much but if you wish to stay, you have to realize my enemies could target you as well. You must know I'm saying this not to hurt you but because I care about you." His stern, almost constrained tone formed a strange contrast to the meaning of his words which let her to realize he was just as confounded by the situation they were in as she was. And she wasn't exactly helping.

And he cared. About her. In all the time they had spent together, despite the sudden intimacy, he had never actually _said_ it.

Now she really wished she had more experience with… well,_ courtship_. Surely, there must be things she could and should say; unfortunately, she had no idea what that would be.

But she had to answer him somehow.

"What was all this about me deserving better, then?"

No, that was definitively not the best response.

Ulfric hesitated for a moment. "I did mean every word of that."

She let out a dismissive huff, staring at her hands again, absent-mindedly kneading her fingers. "Well, maybe I don't _want_ anyone else."

There was no way this could be any more embarrassing for her, so she might as well continued, which she did.

"Listen… I don't know what this is or… or well it will lead us. I don't know… I have never…" Lost for words, she made a small, angry and frustrated sound."All I want is for things to be as they were before. I don't _care_ about what someone might do. I'm not made of glass. I can take care of myself. And I certainly don't like you telling me what is good for me."

He was silent for a while, and she began to wonder if she had been too insolent when he finally sighed again. "I believe as your king, telling you what is good for you is my duty and my right." He sounded softened, though; the corners of her mouth crinkled to a little smile and she snuck her fingers into his hand again. "But you're not always right. That is what you have me for, remember?"

When he put an arm around her, she let her head to his shoulder. It seemed she had won this fight - for now. The threat he worried so much about seemed very distant and vague, too much that she could bring herself to care about it - and even if it was real, being near him like this, hearing him say he was fond of her was definitely worth taking the risk. Maybe she should care more about what he feared so much, maybe she should fear for her own well-being more. But right now, it didn't matter much to her. She was sure, they would sort this out in time.

"You know", he began after a while of quietly sitting in each other's company, "we still haven't talked about your reward."

"I really don't want anything-"

"I'm afraid that is not up to you. You did the city a great service. It is expected of me to reward you adequately."

Elaine groaned inwardly."Fine. I do know my brother would be more than happy about a promotion. As for me… I don't know. You think of something. But I really don't_ need_ anything."

"Well, there is room in my court for a new Thane."  
Her head snapped up abruptly and she stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking, surely. There are many others much more for fit for that title."

With a frown, he looked down at her. "Are you questioning my decision?"  
"Of course not, but-"

"Then enough of this." Despite the harshness of his words, he squeezed her shoulder gently. "The people recognize you. You have done many good deeds for the city, and I wish you to continue to do so. It's an honorary title, mainly, but there are a few perks you could make use of."

Still not convinced, but not willing to fight with him again, she shook her head in defeat. "Well… thank you. I will do what I can to live up to your expectations."

"I know you will. There is something else I wanted to talk to you about - Hjerim."

"Friga Shatter-Shield's home? Wasn't she murdered there?"

"Aye, she was. Her mother has condemned the estate and given it back to the city. Jorleif won't have a problem finding a buyer, I believe, but I wanted to talk to you about it first. I would gift it to you but in consideration of what happened there, that seemed indecent. Maybe you can think of something to do with it."

While she pondered about it, her gaze wandered aimlessly through the room, until it finally lingered on the bookshelves. "You know, I may have an idea…"

* * *

He watches them quietly, standing in the shadows of the dark Throne Room. It doesn't take much effort to hide, the guards may have looked a bit puzzled at the door opening by itself when he slipped through but they didn't actually see him. And the pair in front of him, further down the hall, is too occupied with themselves to notice he is here.

He watches the king grasp her by the shoulders and grits his teeth, ready to step in if the bastard should hurt her. They are arguing a bit but he doesn't pay much attention to their words. He has come back to the city to talk to her, though when he saw her before it was by a coincidence. She was stumbling through the streets, obviously drunk, too inebriated to notice him. He wasn't prepared to meet her - he still has a lot of explaining to do - so he followed her quietly, just wanted to make sure she made it to the palace in one piece. His fingers brush over the papers in his pocket, letters, documents, things he wants to show to her, things she needs to know.

He doesn't have the courage. Not after he sees her pressing her lips onto the kings – a bit wobbly, maybe, but no less passionately – and he has put a fist to his mouth and bite down on the knuckles to prevent the _dovah_ from howling loudly at the sight - and not after the king picks her up and scoops her in his arms to carry her across the room towards the stairs.

He can't talk to her. Can't face her. He is afraid what he might say - or do. What the _dovah_ might do. It's better for both of them if he keeps his distance. She is safe for now, that's what matters.

He's going to talk to the king instead. It's not something he looks forward to either, but it's probably the lesser of the two evils.

He watches them make their way to the door and vanish upstairs, then turns around and leaves, taking all his frustration and anger and self-loathing with him.

* * *

_ [A/N] Yes, the Dovahkiin is a creepy stalker. Don't worry, I will force him to talk to her at some point. *snickers*_

_I hope Ulfric didn't come across too whiney but I didn't want him to be a one-dimensional badass either. Review and tell me what you think, please? Critique is very welcome._

_Also, quoting Tyrion Lannister like a for the third season of Game of Thrones!]_


	17. Chapter 17

_[A/N: Approaching 50.000 words! Now, can we get the reviews up to 50? ;3_

_Again, I apologize for any mistakes, missing words etc. It's 1am here and I think I did an okay job editing for now. I'll go over this again tomorrow morning but for now, here you go._

_Unfortunately, I won't be able to upload regularly on a weekly basis - maybe biweekly or so. Too much stuff happening (real life… ugh), and since English is still not my native language, writing, looking up words and expressions and editing takes a lot of time for me. And I care to much about this story to upload a half-heartedly written chapter. So, I hope you'll forgive me. _

_Please note that I mention Elaine using a curved/convex mirror_ _which is not something I made up_. _Round, convex mirrors were used from 15th centuries onwards, while flat ones were still too difficult to make with the technology at that time. Here I am, proudly presenting the research I did. All for you guys._

_Okay, I'll stop babbling now. Here's the chapter, and I hope it's to your liking. ; ) ]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XVII**

* * *

The door to his small office swung open and Jorleif was forced to protect the papers on his desk from the blast of air that swept into the room; it brought with it a woman with an indignant expression on her face. Before he had the chance to ask her what he could help her with, Elaine planted herself in front of his desk, hands on her hips, and almost hissed at him. "Was this _your_ idea?"

His surprise swiftly changed to bewilderment. "My idea? I don't know what you are talking about."

"A court festival?" She threw her arms in the air in outright desperation. "You can't be in earnest!"

So that was she meant. The only question was why she was so furious about it. "Well, it is custom to celebrate the designation of a new thane wi-"

"Since it is in_ my_ honor, you could have at least _asked_ me!"

Still confused by what exactly it was that had upset her, he shook his head. "Yes, well, we have already begun to make arrangements and I have sent out invitations yesterday. I'm afraid it is too late to cancel the celebration."

Elaine let out a frustrated huff and plunked down into the chair across from his desk, nervously kneading her fingers, and he noticed she avoided his eyes. Apparently, her anger had gone up in smoke and made way for… embarrassment. Seeing her like this was a bit strange; normally, she would dismiss banter and even teasing jokes with not so much as a laugh and a little blush. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she spoke again, mumbling and a bit sulkily.

"Fine. Then… you're going to have to teach me how to dance."

* * *

She hadn't even gone downstairs yet and she hated this evening already. Elaine stared at her slightly distorted reflection in the convex mirror she had bought and which she considered a much more simply because watching the images in the curved glass was absolutely fascinating. She had never owned such an expensive object but what should she do with her septims, anyway? She had briefly considered buying jewelry and was now glad she had refrained from doing so since she felt awkward enough already in the new dress; the blue garment matching the color of her eyes, with silvern twines weaved into the fabric that glistened softly in the candlelight, the neckline of her bodice cut high enough to still be called decent.

It was perfectly tailored and it was adequate for a Thane… and she felt horribly masqueraded.

To say she wouldn't be proud of her new title would have been a lie - of course she felt flattered. She had been a mere nobody, and now she had a honorary title and a _name_.

Elaine of Windhelm.

It still sounded a unfamiliar and a little strange; imposed on her instead of being part of her. And while she appreciated the advantages that came with it, she didn't look forward to being shown off to the nobility like some pretty ornament. She wasn't born into this like rest of them, and no name and no title could change that.

There was no point in feeling pity for herself, though. Grimacing herself in the mirror, she put her amulet of Talos around her neck and set out for the Throne Room.

It was only when she saw the crowd of people, all tarted up and staring at her expectantly, just _waiting_ for her to make a fool of herself, that her anger turned into anxiety. She somehow managed to keep a straight face and hide her nervousness well while the king gave the speech they had pored over the night before, and after it had been her turn to say a few words, she couldn't remember what exactly she'd said but judging by the smile Ulfric gave her she had been able to reel off her own little declamation without embarrassing herself.

What followed was a evening of introductions and conversations, some were actually almost pleasant, and some she had to force herself to smile through. Jorleif rescued her from a particularly tawdry woman who went on and on, fluttering around the king and almost completely ignoring Elaine - which made her more angry than she dared to admit. "C'mon, Mylady, why don't we get you something to drink."

Exhaling the breath she hadn't noticed holding, she followed the steward to a quieter corner, grateful for being granted a short respite. Not very graceful or modest, she gulped down most of the wine in the cup he handed her; it earned her a barking laugh. "Not so fast, Mylady, we don't want you to be staggering though the hall again…"

The room was suddenly much warmer than before. _Oh dear. _"How do you know that?"

There was a mischievous glint in his kind eyes… and a hint of worry. "The walls have ears around here, you must know that by now…" With a sigh, she took another sip from her cup - decently, this time - and raised her eyes to him in surprise when he continued: "Will you be alright?"

"I won't make a habit of bumping into the table in the middle of the night, if that's what you mean."

"It's not the table I'm worried about." He fell silent, hesitating, and she started to become impatient.

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

"I don't want to see you get hurt", he stated, an odd note in his voice she couldn't make sense of.

"I really don't understand. Why would I get hurt?"

He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again, clearly weighing his words with great care. "I trust Ulfric as a Jarl and as king", he said slowly, "I wouldn't trust him with your heart, though." While she stared at him blankly, trying to wrap her mind around what he'd just said, he continued. "Skyrim will always come first for him… and his own pride second. Everything - and everyone else will always come after that."

_'You deserve better.'_

This was starting to get ridiculous. What was it with men that they always tried to protect her and make decisions for her as if she were some helpless child? Still, with the way Jorleif looked at her, caring and a bit uneasy, she found it hard to be angry at him. He meant well, after all. She could hardly hold that against him. "JorIeif… You have enough to worry about. Let my heart be my own concern. I'm perfectly capable of caring for it."

"Hm", he rumbled but smiled when she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, though. I am a very lucky woman to rate you among my friends."

She managed to direct their conversation to less awkward topics while her gazed wondered through the Throne Room. She noticed her brother in the crowd, wearing his brandnew uniform and watched with a covert smile his clumsy efforts to talk to Muiri. When she spotted Vilvyni a little further in the back of the hall, she started to wave more enthusiastically than gracefully before she hastily excused herself to Joliet and scurried through the hall to wrap her friend in an embrace.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come…"

The Dunmer squeezed her gently, then broke away from her and smiled. It was more than a little nervous, though, and Elaine felt sympathy for her - she must have gotten a lot of curious and maybe even more hostile looks. Even now, from the corner of her eye, she could see people staring at them.

"I couldn't miss this, could I? Look at you, you look so beautiful."

"Oh, hush!" Elaine linked arms with her friend and led her further into the room. "I'm glad you're hear. It wouldn't have been the same without you. You have…", she lowered her voice and couldn't help but giggle a bit, "no idea how boring this is."

They gabbed and gossiped for a while; around them, the bards played cheerful songs and the wine flowed freely. She'd had already a little more wine than she had initially wanted to drink and when the king asked her to dance with him and suddenly the room was almost silent and everyone was _staring_ at her again, the air suddenly seemed to hot and sticky to breathe.

It didn't help that Ulfric pulled her a little closer to him than necessary and gave a warm smile that made her legs turn to jelly; maybe he was doing this on purpose, it definitively felt like a very cruel kind of torture…

"Is something wrong?"

_Oh Divines, why are you doing this to me?_ "No, no… it's just…" Telling him was even worse than the feeling of embarrassment itself. "I'm not used to being the center of attention, and… I'm not certain I like it very much."

"Really… because I remember you felt quite comfortable giving speeches in the middle of the market."

"You know that's different", she mumbled whilst trying to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks. "And if you don't mind, I have to concentrate on not stepping on your feet now."

Ulfric obeyed with a throaty chuckle and stayed silent until the song ended and he finally released her. "Rest assured, you are doing quite well tonight", he told her while he walked to the side of the room with her and their guests gave a round of applause before other dancing couple populated the floor for the next song. "You will get used to it in time."

"Are you really planning on dragging me through this _again_?"

"I'm afraid as Thane you will have to attend these events from time to time. Don't worry." He raised a hand and brushed a curl of her hair from her forehead. The touch burned on her skin and suddenly, she found it, again, very hard to breathe. "You won't have to dance every time."

Before she could contain herself, she burst out into laughter, and it brought relief as anxiety and tension left her. "Was it that bad?"

"Well, if you must ask, I am not sure if I still feel my feet but other than that…"

"Oh, you!"

She pushed him jokingly before he caught her hand and laughed with her, and she wanted to kiss him right here, no matter who'd stare at them… She resisted the urge but for the rest of the evening they stole glances and smiles at each other from time to time and when they finally managed to steal away from the party, she felt like a frolicsome lass and couldn't help but laugh again until it got stuck in her throat when he caught her around the waist and pressed a fervent kiss to her lips, and she melted into his arms. They almost made it to his bedroom, then he pinned her to the wall in the corridor and she eagerly wrapped her legs around him, both too impatient to wait any longer, hands frantically tugging at their clothes. She pressed her face to the crook of his neck, her cries of pleasure only partially muffled but she didn't care anymore who heard them, didn't care about anything…

Luckily, he still had the strength to carry her into his room afterwards and gently placed her on the bed. They undressed each other in silence, shared unsteady and breathless smiles. She pulled him onto the bed to her and nestled up to his side, exhausted and perfectly comfortable, smiling at the feeling of his warms hands on their skin. It seemed the evening had not been so bad after all… Her head rested on his shoulder, she listened as his breathing became steady and calm, until the sound lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Right before dawn, when the night was darkest and the last stars blinked in the sky, her eyes snapped open. The fireplace had gone cold at some time during the night but she didn't just feel a bit chilly. She should have still been pleasantly warm in Ulfric's arms but instead, she felt as if a ring of solid ice was strapped around her chest, pressing the air out of her lungs, and she felt benumbed and almost frozen to death.

First, she heard the caw, then the flapping of wings at the window.

_Not again._

_Please, Divines, not again…_

She almost choked on her own fear when she slowly turned her head and saw the crow sitting on the window sill, staring at her with beady little eyes, black as the night itself. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying it would be gone when she opened it again but the gods seemed to have abandoned her. The crow fluttered around a bit and screamed another caw into the room and she was sure it should have woken Ulfric up. He didn't move by her side, breath as steady and deep as before.

She tried to remember how to form words, tried to shoo the animal away but no sound came from her lips and to muster all her strength to fight back sudden mortal agony rising in her. Over and over, she tried to tell herself that it was nonsense, that she was safe here, and still the urge to flee was overwhelming but she couldn't move as if invisible chains were holding her down…

And then the bird flew away into the night, and only an echo remained of her fear.

She inhaled desperately the breathe she had been holding, trying hard not to cry, her fingers clutching the sheets to find some kind of hold. What _was_ that beast? What was happening to her? And _why_?

She briefly thought about waking the man sleeping peacefully beside her, then rejected the thought. It was over, no need to worry him unnecessarily. She couldn't explain what just happened anyway, how could she ever find words for something like that?

Instead, she curled up under the sheets and desperately waited for the morning to come.

* * *

Ivar adjusted the belt with his axe as he left the guards barracks and made his way towards the yard where Elaine had told him to wait for her. He had promised to spend some time with her before his training, since tomorrow, he would be leaving for his new station in the Reach where he'd be among the soldiers tasked with securing the boarders. And maybe he'd even get the chance to fight the Forsworn. Grinning excitedly to himself, he stepped out into the freezing autumn wind. The month of Heartfire was almost passed; winter was near.

His sister was already waiting for him, close to the wall surrounding the court yard where the gusts of wind were less sharp, wrapped in her thick woolen cloak. When she noticed him, she came towards him, a smile on her face that seemed honest but a little strained to him. "There you are." She linked arms with him as they walked down the small alley that lead from the yard to Valunstrad. "Come on, I want to stop by at market before we go to the inn, and I'm already freezing to death."

"Sure, whatever you want." Although he was four years younger than her, he was a foot taller and had to look down to watch her face. "You look tired", he remarked and she made a face.

"I didn't sleep much last night."

Oh. Right. He hadn't seen much of her at yesterday's event but he'd heard that she had left with the king at some point during the festivity. While he was incredibly proud of his sister for her accomplishments and looked up to her - figuratively speaking - he wasn't sure what he should think of that. Sure, she was free to do whatever she wanted but a decent woman didn't do things like that. Right? Not that he would mention that to her. She'd only get angry and her being angry wasn't something he enjoyed much.

"Please don't tell me the details", he mumbled and she huffed indignantly. "You're an idiot. I didn't sleep because I had a nightmare."

"Oh. Again?" She had told briefly him about the previous ones. He didn't worry too much, though. She was stressed out all the time; that was probably the reason for her dreams.

"It's nothing. So, are you excited about tomorrow? You will write me, won't you?"

"As often as I can", he promised, grinning again. She was always so worried but he had gotten a lot better with the axe and with the sword as well. His head was still turned towards her when they walked around the corner and he only saw the surprise flash over her face for the split of a second before she suddenly yanked at his arm and he almost stumbled. From the corner of his eye he saw a robed figure dashing forward with preternatural speed and stretching out an arm.

What followed was a blur.

He felt a sharp pain in his upper body, worse than anything he had ever felt before, and he wanted to scream but it felt like his voice was stuck in his throat and he only managed to croak out a choking, gurgling sound. When he pressed his hands to his torso, he felt something warm, wet and sticky on his fingers. Was that blood? But this didn't make sense, why-

Suddenly, it was very cold. He had always been able to handle the harsh weather well, better than his sister in fact. The only time he could remember feeling this cold was when they had made a short trip to the coast of the Sea of coast, north of the city, on a Sundas, the whole family, back when their parents had still lived, and they had all been blithe and light-hearted. He had become bored with his father's never ending lecture on plants, and had trotted off a bit, out on the ice of the frozen sea until he had become incautious and stepped onto a ice floe that wasn't thick enough to carry him. He had been far out, the water to deep for him to reach the ground with his feet, his clothes soaking seawater and pulling him down, and before his father had pulled him out, he had felt as he did now - wrapped in an icy embrace that pressed the air from his lungs, unable to move, a feeling of numbness taking over his body. He wasn't frightened, though, more surprised and confused.

He only realized he was lying on the hard, dirty street when felt the vibration of heavy boots coming towards him. Muffled by a thick, heavy fog, he could hear people screaming and shouting and wondered what all the commotion was about. What had happened to the stranger? And where was Elaine?

There was something tickling at his stomach, he thought he saw a spark fly but why would someone make fire here in the alley?

Then he saw his sister's face, hovering over him; he saw her eyes widening and her lips moving but, for some reason, he couldn't make out what she was saying.

Darkness enfolded him.


	18. Chapter 18

_[A/N: Let me just say, it is horribly difficult to write something sad when you're feeling happy and content all the time. Better than the other way around, I guess. So I just hope I did a decent job. _

_This and the next one were supposed to be one single chapter but I don't know when I'll be able to write the second part (apparently, my boyfriend and my boss both think they deserve my attention... pah!) and after I cliffhanger-ed you the last time, I didn't want to keep you waiting for so long. Which is why this one's rather short. Please don't throw things at me. _

_So, here it is. With a lot of angst and ALL the emoshuns. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are very welcome.]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XVIII**

* * *

In the few times she had been down here, the catacombs that were the Hall of the Dead had always offered a peaceful soothing quiet, almost otherworldly. All turbulence and unrest was left at the doorstep, the disturbances of life could not infiltrate this realm. The sparsely lit rooms, dark and silent, were the best place for the deceased to be prepared for their final journey, and the living would find inner balance and harmony as well.

She had lost patients before. She had lost her parents. A fever, too strong to be cured. It had been hard but in the end, when the dead lay in repose in the Hall of the Dead, she had always made her peace with it. She had told herself it had been fate, simply, the will of the Divines, not something she could have changed or influenced in any way.

But not this time. This time, it was her fault, hers alone.

And now her bother lay there, pale and cold, with a wound in his chest that had bled too strongly for her to heal it in time. She'd always had trouble summoning magicka but had rarely needed it anyway. She was an alchemist, after all, not a mage. So she had never trained very hard to cast a healing spell. And her potions had always been sufficient.

But not this time.

Her hand clenched to fists until her fingernails dug hard enough into her palms to break the skin. She didn't notice, or maybe she just didn't care. She didn't feel anything.

Ivar's face was so calm, if it had not been for the smears of blood and dirt, she could have almost pretended he was just asleep. He wore the uniform of a Stormcloak soldier, now torn and soaked red. He had been so proud when he'd told her about his promotion and that he would finally get the chance to fight Imperials and Forsworn and the like. She had tried not to look too horrified at the thought. He was just a boy, after all.

He _had been_ just a boy. Now, he was nothing anymore, what lay here was just an empty shell, and he would never get the chance to fight gloriously for his country. All of this, all the things he could have done and experienced and achieved, taken away in an instant.

Maybe she would never get a chance to say goodbye. To apologize.

Somewhere above her, the door to the catacombs opened and fell shut again, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. She heard Helgrid's voice whispering "She is downstairs, Mylord" and then heavy, thudding footsteps on the stairs. Still, she didn't move until warm hands grasped her shoulders and spun her around. Blinking surprised, she stared up to Ulfric and vaguely noticed the fright and fear in his eyes but couldn't bring herself to care. In truth, she felt nothing, nothing at all. She should feel grief and misery. She should be crying. It would be appropriate for her to cry. Instead, there was nothing but a black void of emptiness inside her and it left her feeling dazed and numb, with a fog spread out over her mind like a thick, comforting blanket.

She hardly heard him say: "Are you hurt?", and it took her a while until she realized why he was so worried. "Oh." Looking down on herself, she raised her hands and studied them with mild interest. They were covered in dry blood, as was her dress and cloak. "It's not mine." Her voice sounded hollow and strangely distant, as if it belonged to someone else.

"Yes, you are." His voice was strained but at least he loosened his grip and she followed his gaze to her left arm where the fabric of her clothing hung in shreds. She'd been cut, she realized, though she didn't feel any pain and she couldn't even remember how exactly it had happened. Before or after her brother had fallen to the ground? All she remembered clearly was the hooded stranger emerging from the shadows right in front of them and then everything was a blur. The next thing she remembered was the sticky feeling of blood on over her hands as she had pressed them to the wound to stop the bleeding.

Ulfric briefly inspected the cut, seemed to decide it could be dealt with later and put an arm around her shoulder. "You're in shock", he told her gently and she may have found it annoying that he was talking to her as if she was a child but every feeling and thought she had was muffled to a point where she didn't care about anything anymore. "You need to lie down. Come on, I'll walk you up to the palace-"

"No."

There was only one thing she knew: She didn't want to, she _couldn't_ leave her brother alone down here. He was all she had left of her family.

"It's alright, child." Helgrid appeared behind them, a kind, compassionate smile on her face. "Don't you worry. I'll take good care of him."

Elaine wanted to object, wanted to scream at the priestess she would never leave her brother alone, that she had made a promise to protect him no matter what, but she was suddenly so exhausted, too tired to find the right words. So she only nodded and didn't resist when Ulfric led her outside, through the streets up to the palace, with his guards close behind them. In her room, she sat down on the bed submissively, didn't move when he placed a kiss on her forehead and left her in the care of a maid who, gently and without a word or question, helped her get rid of the blood-soaked dress, tended to her wound and drew her a bath. Then she sat in the tub, arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the distance with empty eyes until the water had turned cold.

When the king returned, the girl had helped her out of the bathtub, put her into another dress and was busy brushing her hair before she scurried away with a hasty curtsy. When she was gone, Ulfric pulled himself a chair and sat down at the table across from Elaine. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright." Her mouth formed the words without the need to think what she was saying. Even in her own ears, the answer sounded mechanically. "I wasn't hurt badly."

"Good." Unmoving, she let him take her hands in his. "I grief with you", he continued and she wanted to ask him why it was that _feel _grief or sadness, why she couldn't feel _anything_. "And I don't wish to cause you more pain. But I have to ask you about what happened."

She nodded automatically.

"Did you see the one who attacked you?"

He – she was almost sure it had been a man – had come out of nowhere suddenly blocking the narrow alley. Had he been waiting for them? How could he have known what way they would take? She had never gotten a look at his face due to the hood he'd been wearing but the robes… she knew this kind of robes. She had seen it before. Solitude. The Justiciars' headquarters. The elves who had come to take her father away.

"Thalmor", she heard her own voice say.

She saw Ulfric frown but he didn't seem surprised. "That is what other witnesses said as well."

She couldn't make any sense of it, though. Why would the Thalmor want her brother dead? What interest could they have in-

_'If you wish to stay, you have to realize my enemies could target you as well.'_

"Me", she whispered, her voice breaking. "He was after me." Her brother's death was her fault not just because she could not save him - but because she hadn't listened. Because she had dismissed the apprehension and the threat, and put not only herself but everyone she loved in danger. And now her brother had paid the price.

_My fault. _

_His blood on my hands._

_It was me who killed him._

"I will not let anything happen to you." Ulfric's grip on her hands tightened; she couldn't keep them from shaking and she hardly heard the words he said. Suddenly, it was so hard to breathe as if an iron band was crushing her chest, a feeling all too familiar from the night before. Overcome with a wave of desperation, she gasped for air, eyes squeezed shut, convulsing with ache that no wound in the flesh but only a broken heart could cause.

She barely noticed as the king lifted her up from her feet and carried her to her bed. He sat with her, mumbling comforting words she didn't understand and didn't want to hear, stroking her hair while she lay curled up on the mattress, arms wrapped tightly around her body, until someone called for him and he left. Then she was alone in her pain, with a mind on the edge of the abyss of despair, only beginning to grasp what was happening to her, and she waited for the tears to rise or for the soothing darkness of sleep to come but none of it happened. As punishment for whatever sins she had committed, the Gods had forsaken her.


	19. Chapter 19

_[A/N: Guess who got sick and had to stay in bed for the last few days… Guess who stayed up all night to finish this chapter for you. Unfortunately, that means it's 4am in the morning and I'm under the influence of painkillers… so I can't be hold accountable for any mistakes. ;P (Seriously, there might be some dumb errors in here. Please don't throw things at me.)_

**_On another note:_**_ 50.000 words and counting! WHOOHOO! *puts on party hat and throws confetti*_

_THANK YOU ALL so much for sticking with me! I honestly didn't think anyone would read this let alone _like_ it, so I'm really humbled by all your kind reviews. You guys are awesome. Thanks to your support I strive to become a better writer and I think I've already improved a bit over the last few months. (Practice makes perfect, I guess.) For future chapters to come, I can promise you a lot of dramatic turns of events, wrought-up feelings and, of course, our favorite Dragonborn who will - to answer your questions ; ) - come back in a few chapters and then become a more important part of the storyline. _

_So… yeah. That was my speech of thanks. I'll stop babbling now. On to the chapter!]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XIX**

* * *

_Cold is the water  
It freezes your already cold mind  
Already cold, cold mind  
And death is at your doorstep  
And it will steal your innocence  
But it will not steal your substance_

_But you are not alone in this  
And you are not alone in this  
As brothers we will stand  
And we'll hold your hand  
Hold your hand _

- Mumford And Sons, "Timshel"

* * *

Carefully setting down the wooden case she had been carrying, Elaine began to uncrate its content and placed one by one on the table in the middle of the former living area in Hjerim. They had made many changes to the house - starting with cleaning up the messy remains of the recent murder and removing the little furniture stored in the rooms. Instead, the walls were now covered with high bookshelves which Elaine and her assistants slowly filled history books, novels, poetry and spell tomes, neatly sorted by category and title. She bought almost every book the merchants brought into the city, with her own money since she had long overrun the budget Jorleif had granted her. Building a library had turned out more expensive than she had anticipated but, she thought as she let her gaze wander through the room, it was more than worth the effort.

A large chandelier and a few wall sconces and lanterns lit up the room on days when the sun hid behind grey clouds; they bathed the library in warm light, bright enough to read comfortably. A few people sat at the small tables, absorbed in their reading matter, some strolled along the bookcases, examining their contents.

Calder was sitting in a corner, silent as always, flipping through a book, looking up and over to her from time to time, his face the usual unreadable mask of indifference. Ulfric had personally ordered the man to accompany her whenever she went into the city and not let her out of his sight, and the housecarl took his duty very seriously. Had she not felt too resigned towards everything, she might had protested – surely, it would be enough if he escorted her to where she was headed, he did not have stay with her the whole time - but as things were, she couldn't bring herself to care enough to fight with the king about this.

She continued to glance around the library's ground floor. Viola Giordano had her nose buried in a copy of 'Of Fjori and Holgeir'. Idesa Sadri was sitting with Grimvar while the boy practiced reading in a low voice, intently ogled by little Sofie who was always content just to sit around peacefully in a corner. Elaine was sure the orphan girl couldn't read but at least she would find shelter from the cold in here. Tova Shatter-Shield was frequent visitor as well in her daughter's former house, though she had wept freely the first time she had come here. Then she had thanked Elaine tearfully for what changing the horrific site into something wonderful.

_Wonderful. _She didn't know if that was she word she would have used but it certainly gave her the feeling of doing something valuable and useful for the city. And why not make that something she herself enjoyed as well? Besides, she was glad for any task that kept her from brooding too much. Also, collecting books from traders, sorting them and putting them away, and carefully cataloging everything - those were task that left her in a welcome solitariness. She couldn't bear being around others for very long; people who looked at her with pity and tried to comfort her because they didn't understand, because for them, life went on just the same.

Not that she was not able to fulfill her duties, on the contrary. The day after her brother's death, she had proceeded with her work as usual, brushing away any objections and offerings to take some time to mourn. No, she was holding up very well and carried out her tasks with just as much diligence as before, burying herself in work. As long as her mind was occupied, she didn't have to deal with the dull pain in her chest, the heavy knot of grief and guilt she had buried deep inside her but not deep enough and that now was eating away at her.

She was holding up well but at the same time, she could feel herself falling apart.

_No. Not now. Not here. Focus._ Firmly pushing away the thought, she sat down with her newest acquirements and took up a quill to write down titles and authors in the catalogue she kept. She had been working for a while when the door to the library was pushed open, a blast of cold wind swirled some snowflakes inside that melted quickly in the warmth of the house, and the silence in the room suddenly changed to an excited murmur.

"Step aside for the king!"

Her head snapped up and she watched with a confused frown as Ulfric stepped inside, followed by his soldiers. She rose from her chair, almost automatically, when he noticed and approached her.

"I… didn't expect you, Mylord."

"I told you yesterday I would make a visit." He didn't sound reproachfull; instead, there was a sign of forbearance in his voice that she didn't like at all.

"I apologize." She noticed how his face shut down at her distanced tone but she couldn't help it. It was her only shield against his pity. "It must have slipped my mind. Would you like me to show you around?"

"That is what I came here for."

So she did, her catalogue tucked under her arm, in a low voice explaining the different sections of the library and pointing out certain titles she was especially proud of. By the time they reached the upper floor, she realized she wasn't even listening to her own words. She could have been talking pure jibberish. The king, however, seemed satisfied by what she had explained. When they stopped in the last room upstairs, he turned around to face her.

"You have excelled yourself but I expected nothing less."

"Thank you, Mylord."

The silence between them stretched and was almost hard to bear until he spoke again.

"Will you join me for dinner tonight?"

If nothing else, it would have been polite to agree, and still, she shook her head. Hesitantly, at least. No matter how she felt, turning him down was never easy. "Another time, maybe, I have so much work to do…"

"Elaine." He waited patiently until she was forced to meet his eyes, only to look away again hastily. "Don't do this to yourself. It wasn't your fault."

That was where he was wrong.

_Blood._

_So much blood._

_Why couldn't I do anything?_

"I really have to get back to my work", she told him, hoping her voice wouldn't crack, then turned around and left, leaving him standing there as she hurried back downstairs. Before he had the chance to follow her, she had slung her coat around her shoulders and left Hjerim, unaware of the curious gazes that followed her.

* * *

The dim quiet and solitude of the temple's hall greeted her as she slipped through the door Calder was holding open for her. This early in the morning, with dawn only a silver lining on the horizon, there was no one here to pray yet, and the priests had understood by now that she just wanted to be left alone. As always when they came here, the housecarl stayed in the back by the temple's door while she proceeded towards the shrine and sat down on a wooden bench in the front row. She would have preferred to be completely alone but since he was forced to never leave her out of his sight when they were outside the palace, she didn't argue about it. He remained quiet and he never bothered her, so in return, she never complained about his presence, or that he acted suspicious towards the people around her, or remained within earshot during conversations that were supposed to be private. He never pushed her to have a conversation with him, either, that would have only been uncomfortable for both of them. She wasn't sure but it seemed he understood why she needed to be left alone. In a way, they had come to something as a silent agreement, and she was getting used to his quiet presence.

Leaning back against the bench, she glanced up to the stone statue towering over the shrine and then simply stared into space, exhausted from the sleepless nights and the constant struggle to keeping herself upright when she wasn't alone. She had tried to cry and felt horrible that she couldn't, not even at her brother's funeral. She had stood there, stared down at his grave and repeated the events of that fateful day in her mind over and over again, all those moments when she could have, should have acted differently so Ivar could have lived. She had let him come here, join the Stormcloaks, she had dismissed the king's warning someone may be after her, she had always claimed to be a skilled healer and then she had not been able to save her own little brother.

She didn't pray. She didn't even try anymore. What would she say anyway? Pray to Akatosh to undo the past? The gods had already made it clear they did not care much about her. And why would they? She was just one mortal among many, irrelevant for the streams of time and fate, petty in the face of the face of the Divines.

It was the silence, the soothing quiet of the temple that she sought when she came here. Leaving the world at the doorstep. Not having to force a smile.

Lips pressed together to a thin line, she rubbed her eyes desperately as she tried to banish the image of Ivar, smeared in blood on the ground, face horribly distorted with pain and fear, from her mind. Only one night of sleep without seeing this, without waking up screaming, that was all she asked for…

Behind her, the door was pushed open, and she heard Calder's heavy footsteps and then a clear voice. "It's not forbidden to talk to her, is it?"

The Nord grumbled something under his breath. "Alright. Go ahead."

"Why, thank you."

Still shaking her head, Vilvyni took a seat beside her. "A nice watchdog you have there", she whispered_ w_ith a canny smile that Elaine could hardly bring herself to return.

"I'm sorry. He is obligated to be careful."

"I know, I know." The Dunmer gently patted her arm. "How are you feeling,_ sera_?"

"I'm fine." The more often she said it, though, the more it sounded mechanical and unconfident even in her own ears. "Really", she added feebly.

Vilvyni huffed slightly. "You don't have to do that with _me, _you know. I'm your friend. And you are far from fine. But you will be."

"Will I?" It didn't feel like she would ever be _fine_ again. With every day that passed, it more and more felt anything but _fine_.

The Dunmer didn't answer; instead, she glanced up to the statue in front of them. "You know", she said thoughtfully after a while, "I never understood why you worship this god."

Elaine didn't feel like arguing but at least it was a change of subject. "Well, you worship Daedra instead… is that more reputable?"

It earned her a chuckle from Vilvyni. "I didn't want to offend you, _sera._ I'm merely curious. Why_ do_ you worship Talos?"

"Well…" It was easy falling into a sermonlike lecture; she still remembered the exact words her father her told her and that she, in return, had taught her brother. „Of all the gods, he understands us the most. They say he is the god of man but I think it is more about us being mortal beings than men or mer. Because he is a symbol for the part of us that is more than just the mortal shell. He is the bridge between mortal and divine. A part of us…" She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "A part of us lives on after we die."

Vilvyni took her hand and linked her finger with Elaine's in a soft gesture. "So… that means you will see your brother again someday."

Of course it had been about this. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"But you have to." Now she sounded like a mother talking to a defiant child. "You can't carry this around with you forever."

"And how would you now?" It had come out more rude and waspish than she had intended to. She didn't even have the energy to apologize.

The Dunmer didn't seem to take her remark to heart; the tone of her voice was just as gentle as before. "I have been there", she explained calmly. "You know that. I lost my husband and when I came here, I thought I could never live with myself again. I told myself I should have looked for him, that maybe he was somewhere hurt or captured and I could have saved him but instead, I just did what he told me to do and left him behind. I felt as guilty as you do now."

Elaine bored her teeth into her lower lip. "That's not the same." Still, something had… cracked inside her at her friend's story, a wall she had spent the last weeks building tightly around herself. Maybe the fact that she wasn't alone in her pain. That someone could actually know what she was dealing with. Or maybe just that someone was _there_, and talked to her without pity, without handling her with kid gloves. Forcing her to tear down the wall instead of tiptoeing around her.

Or maybe it was just too much.

"No, not exactly." The elf gave her hand a squeeze. "But that doesn't matter because just as I was not at fault for what happened, you are neither."

"I just… I just want to…"

Another crack and then the wall crumbled down and with it, her so well constructed self-control. She faltered, leaning against her friend and squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the tears that suddenly streamed down her face nonetheless. Vilvyni let her cry, taking her into her arms and stroking her hair until Elaine managed choke out words between her sobs.

"To see him again. Just once, to… to tell him I'm sorry, that I… I would have done anything, _anything_…"

"I know. And I'm sure he knows, too. You Nords believe in a life after death in Sovngarde, don't you? When the time comes, you will see him again."

"I don't even know if I will go there." Elaine rubbed angrily over her face which didn't help when she still couldn't stop crying and new tears found their way over her cheeks again. "If _he _is there. We're not _true_ Nords. I don't know where we will end up."

"Not true Nords? You are as strong-minded, courageous and too stubborn for your own good as the rest of them. Trust me. If anyone deserves a place in the Hall of Valor, it is you."

She made a noise that could have been a laugh had it not stuck in her throat, muffled by her running nose and tumid face. "I feel like everything I do… it doesn't mean anything anymore."

"I know. I felt the same way." Vilvyni smiled melancholically. "Until Endryn was born. That was when I understood that I couldn't give up just yet. I had a reason to move forward. And, you know, I began to realize why Llondryn had told me to find my way to Windhelm on my own if he didn't come back and he'd find me there. He wanted me to live for our son. So that is what I did. And that is my advice to you. You have so many reasons to move on from this. Your brother admired the king, didn't he?"

Elaine nodded mutely, sniffing and rubbing her face again.

"Then maybe you should continue to serve him as best as you can and make sure Ivar's death was not in vain."

_In vain._

No matter how much pain she had to suffer, she couldn't let that happen. Exhaling, while her tears slowly dried up, she let her head rest on Vilvyni's shoulder for a while before she found the strength to sit up again. She even managed something like a little smile, though it looked weak and far from happy.

"Thank you."

"You know, _sera_, I think you sometimes forget how much you have done for me. For all of us. To be there for you when you need me is the least I can do. Come now. I'll walk up to the palace with you. That is, if your honorable bodyguard allows me to…"

Calder glared at the elf for a moment while he politely opened the door for them, not letting show any sign that he had silently listened to their conversation. Only when he followed the two women up the stairs, however, the look on his face changed to a thoughtful expression.

* * *

They hadn't spoken since she had left the library in a rush the other day. Now, she slowly climbed the stairs to the king's room, prolonging the way more than necessary in her fear of facing him again, and, at the same time, resenting herself for feeling and acting so foolishly. She had been the one to tell him she needed him, then she'd pushed him away and now she wanted to act like a defiant child. She had needed the time and space to deal with her brother's death on her own, to come to terms with everything that had happened, and she was thankful he had granted her both. The least she could do was to show her gratitude.

Vilvyni had been right. She'd had time to think about their conversation and while she didn't know if she felt actually _better,_ she certainly saw things more clearly now. This had to stop. It was time for her to return to the world of the living.

She knocked lightly and, as usual, didn't wait for an answer before she opened the door to his bedroom and slipped through. Ulfric sat at his desk, brooding over what he was reading with a frown. His expression softened when he looked up and turned towards her in his chair but he remained silent. Elaine held his gaze while she let the door shut behind her and, instead of walking into the room, leaned against the wood.

"Does", she began, suddenly feeling almost timid again, after she had ignored him and brushed away any of his efforts to comfort her over the past weeks in a sometimes almost rude manner, and now, without grief clouding her mind, she felt guilty about it, "does your invitation for dinner still stand?"

Wordlessly, he held out his hand; she took it with only the slightest hesitation, stepping closer to him, her free hand resting on his shoulder while he wrapped an arm around her waist. The familiar warmth of him would almost brought tears to her ears again. "I'm sorry." She knew he was watching her closely but suddenly found herself unable to look in his eyes.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I know, it's just…"

He placed a hand over hers on his shoulder, the callous pad of his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. "If you need more time…"

When she finally found the courage to look at him, she found that, to her relief, there was no pity in his eyes, only kindness and a certain understanding. "May I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Does it still hurt thinking about your father?"

Surprise flickered over his face. Elaine held his gaze and wondered if he would lie to her but even if he did, the pain in his eyes had already given away the answer to her question. He took his time before he finally spoke. "It does."

"Mhm." With a tired sigh, she leaned against him slightly, her gaze lifting from him; instead, she looked out the window into the clouded sky, absent-mindedly, without really seeing anything. "It's not time that I need", she continued slowly. "I just… I needed someone to set me straight. I will always grief for my brother and I will… I will always feel guilty for what happened. That doesn't have to determine where I will go from here." A mirthless, bitter smile tugged at the corner's of her mouth. "It would feel like letting them _win_. And I can't let them have that... that power over me." She was about to add the question whether her words made any sense or non at all but when she dropped her eyes back to him, she noticed the small smile on his face, a smile of both gentleness and a grim kind of respect.

She returned his gaze with a suspicious frown. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Ulfric gently shifted her away from him so he could rise to his feet, and she couldn't help but notice again how small she was in comparison to him. "Except that I find it difficult not to admire your strength."

"Really?" Considering how she had crucified herself over the last weeks and how she had wept tears this morning and still felt like sitting down in a corner and crying her eyes out, it was hard to believe. "I don't feel particularly strong."

"But you are", the king said quietly, cupping her cheeks and placing a kiss on her forehead. The he put an arm around her shoulders. "Now, I think you wanted to take me up on my invitation to dinner…"

They shared a quiet, undisturbed meal in the kitchen before adjourning to his bedroom again where she kept still and let him gently peel of their clothes, then clung onto him as if she was drowning while time seemed to stand still around them and he swept away every thought from her mind. She only noticed she was crying when he kissed the tears away and held her until she had no more.

Nestling up to his side under the sheets, she realized this was the first time in weeks that she didn't feel completely miserable. Tired and exhausted from crying, _empty_, but not as wretched as before; as if her pain was a festering wound that had finally been cleaned and could now fully heal. _She _could heal.

Vilvyni had been right in that, too: She had needed a goal to keep in sight. Something to encourage her to proceed forward instead of looking backward all the time. It had reminded her of something that was yet to be done.

They still hadn't found her brother's murderer but Elaine would not rest until the Mer was found and she saw his head on a spike.

It bothered her only a bit how _satisfying _the image was.

She said none of that to Ulfric. Though she might need his help sooner or later, this wasn't the right time to bring it up. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder and breathed in his scent. She had missed this. She had missed _him._ As much as she wanted revenge, it was not, it _could_ not be the only thing to keep her moving forward. She had told him she would stay by his side and now, she had to live up to her promise.

Her head resting on his broad chest, she listened to his heartbeat; her fingers traced the scars on his stomach and lingered over one of those that were neither from the sword of an opponent nor the claws of a bear. She knew how a wound looked when it reopened because the patient wasn't careful enough and then was healed anew. But this… this was different. The skin where now thick scar tissue bulged had been cut deeply and with cold precision, clean and almost parallel incisions that had been healed, than sliced open again and again and again.

The thought of it made her sick.

When Ulfric caught her hand and gently pulled it up to his chest, she swallowed heavily and didn't dare to meet his eyes. "Forgive me, I… didn't want to remind you…" Her voice trailed away; anything she could say would probably only make it worse.

To her surprise, he only shrugged and his voice was low and soft when he answered. "I would offer you to ask any question you may have but I think there is little you don't already know from your books."

"There are some things books don't tell." Elaine withdrew her hand from his grasp and drew along the scar again, then placed the palm of her hand over it. "For example, how someone would be able to do such a thing and live with themselves afterwards."

"The Thalmor despise us. We are hardly more than animals to them so they see no need to feel sympathy for us."

Not at all becalmed by the thought, she slightly shook her head. She knew, of course, not only the Thalmor committed horrible deeds but right now, it was difficult not to condemn and hate them with all her heart.

"It may seem cruel and pointless", he continued, "but you have to understand, to them, was all very necessary. Effective."

"To… obtain information?"

"Aye. But it's more than that." There was an edge to his voice and when she glanced up to him, she saw he was staring into nothingness. "What they want is to demonstrate the power they have over us. To… teach us our place, if you will. This is why I said I admire your strength. You coped with what they can do to your mind much faster than I did."

Uncertain of what he implied, she pushed herself up on one elbow to view his face. "What do you mean by that?" When he finally met her eyes, the darkness of them made her shiver, and not in a pleasant way this time.

"When I was taken prisoner in the Great War, they let me believe the information I gave away under torture was crucial to the fall of the Imperial city. It was nothing but a lie, of course, the city had been taken long before I broke."

She could do nothing but stare at him with eyes wide from surprise and horror when the meaning of his words fully sank in.

_You know what happened there._

_Legate Justianus Quintius, 'The Great War'_

_'The Imperial Palace was burned, the White-Gold Tower itself looted, and all manner of atrocities carried out by the vengeful elves on the innocent populace.'_

_And they made him believe that he…_

"But… why?" She didn't trust her voice to form any more words.

"It was a lesson for me", he said quietly and with much less ire than she would have expected, "A lesson for me to understand what they were capable of even without laying as much as a finger on me. The mind and, in my case, conscience, can be a very powerful and very cruel instrument of torture on its own."

Lips trembling, her fingers clenched into his arm without even noticing, she stared at him and felt, to her own surprise, fury rise in her and sweep away the mere horror that had seized her. "They didn't break you." She almost snarled it and startled herself with the noise. "They may have taught you a lesson but they didn't _break_ you. So_ never_ say that again."

Ulfric stared at her, utter bewilderment on his face, as if he was seeing her – or something about her – for the first time. She couldn't blame him, this was new for her as well. Then he suddenly rumbled a low, hoarse laugh, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. "I will not say it again", he growled "and whatever happened in the past, I swear by the gods, I will not let them lay a hand on you." When he pulled her down and into a kiss, she laid her hands on his cheeks, tousled waves of her hair falling down like a veil around their faces, and the rage she had felt was gone as swiftly as it had risen. It had left something, though, a faint feeling in her stomach, like the aftermath of a burning pain. She couldn't name it and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"I'm not afraid of them", she whispered, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth before pushing herself up again to take in the sight of his features, from the fine crinkles around his eyes and on his forehead that would, in time, become marks of concentration and worry, to the scar on his cheek and the fervent sparks in his eyes sending shivers down her spine and moved the core of her very being. "And I won't have you be afraid for me."

_Let them come. Let them all come. I will have my revenge._


	20. Chapter 20

_[A/N: Look who's uploading at 2am again... I would have finished this sooner but I was really busy looking at gifs of Tom Hiddleston… I mean, I was working. Heh._

_I apologize in advance if this chapter feels a bit slow-paced – there were so many things I wanted to work into it, then it got too long and I had to postpone all the action I had planned. I can promise you, though, things are going to get exciting and dramatic from here on. Might even have to change the genre to 'drama'._

_Anyway, here it is, and I hope you enjoy the read. Reviews make me a happy girl!]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XX**

* * *

The little boy almost stumbles over his own feet as he tries to keep up with his father's long strides. They have left the gates behind them and are crossing the bridge now, walking towards the stables. The ground is slippery, covered with frost. The air is freezing cold and it is so dark that the boy can hardly see where he puts his feet. His father has woken him long before morning. "It's time", he has told him.

Now he walks beside him, towering over the boy, a dark figure against the night's sky, broad shoulders, strong arms, the angular face that always bears a stern expression even though now he can't see it clearly in the darkness. The boy adores his father, has always tried hard to impress him, to make him proud of his son. He has tried to be strong and fearless just like the old Bear. And now his father is sending him away. He has told it was no punishment but it still feels that way.

When they reach the carriage that will take him away, with the guards to accompany him already waiting, the boy feels a sudden wave of panic and desperation. Until now, everything has seemed so unreal; but now he realize with a start that he actually has to leave his home behind, go some strange place he has never been before, where he knows no one, and that he will not come back.

"Father…" He stops moving, maybe he can still convince his father to let him stay. He would let him stay, he _must_ let him stay… "I don't want to go, _please_, can't I just stay with you, I promise-"

"Listen closely, son." His father crouches down on his heels to level the boy. His eyes are gentle but the expression on his face is still as stern and unforgiving as ever. "You were chosen to learn the sacred ways of our ancestors. It is a great honor and you should feel proud. I know you will not disappoint me." No, he won't. He _can't_. The boy knows his father does not tolerate to be disappointed and despite feeling scared and , he knows he will do everything he can to make his father proud.

"Come now." His father picks him up with strong arms and lifts him onto the back of the carriage. When the vehicle begins to move, jolting and rumbling along the bumpy road, he can hardly keep his balance. One of the soldiers in the cart with him puts a hand on his shoulder and gently pulls him back and to one of the wooden benches. "You're going to fall off, boy. Better sit down", he says with a look of commiseration.

The boy does as he is told and tries very hard not to cry. He is strong and fearless. He has to be. And yet, his eyes are brimming his tears while he gazes at the lone figure, standing tall and imposing as always, in the dark at the side of the road and watches it become smaller and smaller until the carriage rumbles around a turn in the road and his father vanishes from the boy's sight.

* * *

For the third time, her father tells her it is an honor, not a punishment and the girl still doesn't believe him. If it is not a punishment, why is he sending her away to a city where she knows no one, locking her up in this temple for the rest of her life? What has she done to deserve it? Fine, maybe she did sneak down to the stables with Vivienne and tried to convince the stable master to let them ride a horse. And she and Ataf should probably have not played that prank on Viarmo at the Bards College. But really, she didn't even want to do it,Ataf convinced her and she has already done extra chores for that misbehavior.

Since then, she has tried very hard to behave and her parents are still sending her away. She hates them, and she already hates this place though they have arrived only half an hour ago. Now they are standing under the tree in front of the Temple of Kynareth. A young priestess who has introduced herself as Danica has sympathetically put a hand on her shoulder; the girl has to pull herself together really hard not to shake it off defiantly. Her father kneels before her to level her eyes but she has turned her face away. She feels betrayed and she doesn't want to look at him. Ever.

"I know it's hard, princess." He gently brushes a strand of hair away from her forehead. "But you will be alright. Danica's going to take care of you."

"I will", Danica promises and the girl purses her lips scornfully, unnoticed by the priestess. She hates _her_ as well.

"You'll make me proud, princess. I know you will." When the girl still refuses to look at him, he sighs, softly pulls away and rises from the ground. "I will give you mother your love", is what he tells her before he turns around and begins to walk back over the square, away from her. The girl's eyes are suddenly full of tears and she tries to suppress the sobs; she doesn't want her father to leave her here but even more important, she doesn't want him to leave _her_.

The priestess beside her gently squeezes her shoulder. "Go, child", she says, and though the girl thinks she should stay strong and show him how much she hates him, she bursts off and runs after her father.

"Papa!" He turns around and catches her when she throws herself into his arms. He picks her up without effort and she presses her small face to the crook of his neck. "I love you, papa", she whispers. "And I love momma, too."

"And we love you, little princess." He presses a kiss to her temple. "Don't forget that."

* * *

It was a rare free afternoon, no meetings, no audiences, no visitors. They were talking walk, over the bridge, past the small farms; just the two of them except for the two guards who prudently stayed behind far enough to give them privacy. Elaine savored every moment; she hardly had Ulfric for herself these days – except for the nights and then most of the time, they both were too tired to stay up late. This was a rare opportunity for them to enjoy each others' company without either being interrupted or falling asleep.

"I was older than you were", she said, glancing up to him. "And it was certainly not so… isolated. I can't even imagine what that is like."

"Not as bad as you would think." His face was a mask of indifference and that was all she needed to know that he was whitewashing the truth. "Once you get used to it, that is."

"I didn't think I could do it. Giving my own child away." She let her gaze wander of the snowy landscape, lost in though. "For whatever reason. I'd say it is because I'm a woman but I remember my mother was more proud than sad to see me go."

There was a time when she had hated both of her parents - as much as a child can feel such a thing as hatred - but the feeling had passed when she had come to understand it was not a bad thing that had happened to her. After all, it had, in the end, not been long until her family had been reunited again.

When she felt sadness well up in her, she briskly pushed the thought aside.

They strolled along the river, through the snow that covered the land. It was the end of Sun's Dusk; winter was long upon them with the usual freezing weather, and this day was one of the few with no snowfall. Still, the sun hid behind thick grey clouds and the cold wind blew sharply.

Elaine playfully tried a step with one foot onto the ice floes on the water at the shore, testing if they could carry her, then squeaked startled and burst out laughing when the ice cracked and she almost couldn't keep her balance; only holding on to Ulfric's arm prevented her from falling right into the freezing cold water. He caught her around the waist, a mischievous smile on the lips. It was about time, she thought, that they had a bit of fun. It was well deserved.

"So, how long did you stay in the temple?", he asked, continuing the conversation they had before her little venture.

"Not very long. About two years. I certainly learned a lot but I didn't become a priestess after all."

"And why not?"

"Well…" She stopped shortly in her step to pick a Mountain Flower that she absentmindedly turned between her fingers. "What they taught me was fascinating and I loved that I could really help people. But apparently, I wasn't suited for priesthood…" She chuckled at the memory. "I had a friend there, Ysolda. I used to skip my lessons and we would sneak up to the hall of the Companions to watch them train in the yard. Or she convinced me to play pranks on people… or maybe I was the one who convinced her, I don't really remember. We were definitively in a lot of trouble. And you know… boys." She winked suggestively and he chuckled. "Eventually, they sent me back and told my parents I'd be a wonderful healer one day but didn't have what it took to serve Kynareth with devotion." She shrugged; in hindsight, she could not imagine herself spending her whole life in the temple. "Too many rules to follow."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Really…"

She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. "It was just phase. I grew out of it eventually and… became a good girl."

With a laugh, he put his arm around her shoulders. "Did you now?"

She hardly suppressed a girlish giggle. "Oh, so you think me an insolent person?"

"Not at all. However, I believe you still have a problem with rules when you don't agree with them."

"Well…" Maybe he had a point. More strongly so since she had come to Windhelm. In Solitude, she'd never had much reason to act… insubordinately. Except she never stopped wearing her amulet of Talos, not even with the Justiciars' headquarter just around the corner. "I think you could say that."

They walked in silence for a while. From time to time, she would pause again to pick a flower or some of the grass stalk that grew along the river shore. There wasn't much that grew in this part of Skyrim; the weather was too harsh for most plants and the soil not fertile enough. Not that she had much time to tend to her alchemical work but she did miss the rich flora of her home town.

"Speaking of children…", she began hesitantly, absently plucking the blossom from a mountain flower. This subject was rather awkward but she'd have to address it sooner or later, and since he seemed to be in a good mood…

Ulfric abruptly broke his stride and stared at her. "Are you-?"

"What? No. _No_, absolutely not." Not as long as she still knew how to mix a potion for contraception. Sharing a bed with the king was one thing, raising the bastard children of a king was something completely different. She would have laughed if the situation had not been taut enough. No wonder, after she had expressed herself so ambiguously. "No, this is not about me. I'm talking about the children you don't have. And the wife, for that matter."

"What of it?" His gaze was almost too intense but she forced herself not to turn away and tried to put as much strictness in her voice as she could possibly muster. She had certainly imagined this would go more… smoothly.

"Well… We received a letter from Maven Black-Briar, she plans to visit the city in the near future. And she will bring her daughter along. So… I invited them to the palace. They'll probably be here for the New Life Festival. Which, by the way, we are spending too much money on."

The matron of the Black-Briar family had very clearly made a feature of the fact that she would be accompanied by her daughter Ingun. The intention was obvious in an almost blunt way. But, why not consider it? A union with one of the richest families in Skyrim was most certainly advantageous. And according to the gossip she had picked up, the girl was pretty and smart but not even half as ambitious as her mother. Which was a good thing considering Ulfric needed a wife who felt did not feel the need to plot behind his back to her own benefit.

Strangely enough, what nettled her most was that Ingun was said to be a skilled alchemist.

"Really." If looks could kill, he would have already raised her from the dead only to kill her again. He was barely holding his temper in check. This was not going at all as she had anticipated. "I remember that you are supposed to discuss these matters with me first."

"If you don't want me to act in your name than don't give me the authority to do so", she snapped back before she could stop herself. This was not the time have debate on principles - it would only distract from the matter at hand. "I don't see what the problem is. Do you think I'll force you to marry the woman as soon as she makes a step into the city?"

"These decisions are not at all for you to make", he gave back, voice rising in anger. It made her even more furious.

"Why are you making this harder than it has to be? Do you think I enjoy talking to you about this? Because I don't. But_ someone_ has to remind you, if you want your work to outlast you, you _need_ an heir."

"I can always-"

"What, _appoint _someone? And how well would that work out? You know they'd pick apart whomever you choose. Do you want them to fight over the march like a horde of skeevers over a piece of rotting carcass? Because that is_ exactly _what will happen - unless you have a _legitimate _child."

"Are you finished?" He was still staring at her, eyes spraying sparks of anger but his voice was calm again. Too calm, she thought. No, this was not at all how she had imagined this conversation would go. Realizing she had almost been yelling at him - over his shoulder she could see the guards in the distance watching them - she forced herself to lower her voice.

"I'll be finished when you stop being ignorant about this and start thinking of the country you swore to protect."

The king didn't answer, and she refused to avert her gaze, so they continued to glare at each other in silence while agonizing seconds ticked on. She saw him grit his teeth and wondered why he was acting as if she had suggested he married a Hagraven. Why was this even such an issue?

Finally, he spoke. "And where will that leave us?"

_Oh._

That was a question she did not want to think about too hard.

"I don't know." Suddenly it became unbearably uncomfortable to look at him; she dropped her eyes and turned around to look gaze the river instead. "I'm certainly not going to beguile a man into breaking his marriage vows, if that's what you mean. Other than that… I wouldn't leave you. I'd still be your Thane, after all." But she wasn't sure if she was truly able to stand seeing him with another woman - not when the mere thought of it let fervid jealousy boil up in her.

When he remained silent, she continued, her voice constrained, glad she didn't have to look at him. "My wishes don't matter in this, anyhow. If I started to put my own desires ahead of Skyrim or the Hold, I should not have a place with you any longer."

Elaine heard him come closer, and when he placed a hand on the small of her back and she felt the warmth of him even through her thick coat. Though a part of herself hated her for it, she had to fight the urge to throw herself into his arms. That would not exactly prove her point, though.

"You will always have a place with me."

"Maybe so. That doesn't mean I'd be of use for you any longer." She shook her head firmly. "It doesn't matter. I won't let it get to that point in the first place."

"I have great faith in you, if that is any comfort."

"You're not exactly unbiased", she mumbled and he chuckled directly into her ear, his breath ghosting over the skin of her neck, sending coiling heat right to her midsection. "That might be true…"

She expected him to go on but he didn't, and when she glanced up to him she saw the familiar stern expression on his face he always had when something was troubling him. Before she could ask, he spoke again. "Do you ever wonder-" He paused, frowning.

"Wonder what?"

"About the way our lives would be if there was no kingdom to rule and no war to fight."

For all the wealth and power and armies at his command, there was a price he had to pay, she thought. They all had to pay, one way or another. And even if it felt unjust at times, maybe it was the way the Divines balanced out the world.

"I do. Sometimes." More often than she wanted to. "But… I've come to think the gods never give us more than we can handle. There_ is_ a kingdom to rule, after all, and someone has to do it."

This time, his smile was mirthless and almost bitter. "You are right, as always. And I pray I can live up to the task before us."

"You think there will be another war." It wasn't a question; he had said so himself, after all.

"Not in the near future but… eventually, yes. The Empire is weaker than ever. It is only a matter of time before the Dominion will act. They don't call the Great war the 'first' for nothing."

She didn't want to think about what that would mean for them but if there was no way to escape their fate, she might as well face up the reality of what was to come. She would have to, anyway, eventually. "They are trying to take Tamriel apart bit by bit, aren't they? And if they conquer all the Imperial provinces…"

"It would leave us surrounded", he agreed.

"Except for the border to Hammerfell. Are you going to bring this up to the Redguard Ambassador when he arrives?"

"Among other things, yes." Ulfric sounded tired and she suddenly felt bad for pestering him so much. This should have been an afternoon without any of them worry over these things.

"You know", she stood up on tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, her fingers clutching the fur of his coat to hold herself up, "it's getting late. Maybe we should go back."

"You're right." When he put an arm around her shoulders and side by side, they began to walk in the direction they had come from. "It will be dark soon."

"Mhm. It's a shame it is so cloudy today. I miss the sun."

"You should have said so earlier." Confused, she glanced up to him. His smile had turned to a smug smirk. "I can most certainly remedy this. You might want to take a step back."

"What are you…?"

Before she could say anything else, he took a step forward and threw his head back. She watched, overwhelmed with surprise and astonishment, as he roared to the skies.

_"LOK VAH KOOR."_

Even though he wasn't facing her and the Shout was directed to the sky, she could _feel _the thundering sound as it ran through her body, the energy rushing through her veins, prickling on her skin. She stared at Ulfric, who still stood with his back to her, head held high; she could see his broad shoulders rise when he took a heavy breath. He looked more like an incarnated Nordic god of old than the man he was and though she had no illusions about said man, in this moment, he seemed larger than life.

And then the sky opened up, the dense blanket of cloud slowly coming apart; the remaining cloudlets like little white sheep in the sky, their edges painted in a soft red by the setting sun. Elaine stared at the sight above her with her head tilted back, for the moment spellbound and completely lost for words. It was mesmerizing and stunningly beautiful. She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the warm evening sun, warm beams a caress on her skin.

When she opened she found Ulfric watching her, his gaze was so heated and intense, she immediately a burning blush on her face, and – unsuccessfully – tried to cover her agitation with pointed nonchalance. " Trying to impress me, are you?"

A grin flashed over his face. It made him look several years younger. "Maybe. Did it work?"

"Maybe", she laughed. When she began to walk towards the bridge again, she gestured him to follow him. He obeyed and caught up with her after a moment.

"Now you don't want to enjoy the sun anymore?"

"I do." Elaine grinned at him and playfully slipped away from his grasp when he attempted to embrace her again. "But even more, I want to see want else you can do to… impress me."

They couldn't get back to the palace fast enough.

* * *

_Plink._

_Plink._

_Red drops dripping from the ceiling, forming a puddle on the floor. It glistens wet in the torchlight. _

_Bloody footprints lead from it in a track to the door. One after one after one and then another one forms on the stone, as if an invisible intruder leaves them behind. _

_They lead through the door and around a corner, out of her sight._

_Plink._

_Plink._

_Plink._

_There is no sound. The wind has died down. Not a single bird sings in the trees and on the roofs. The grey clouds above the city have taken on a deep, inky black that seems to swallow every beam of light and throws a dark veil over the city. _

_Plink._

_Plink._

_The messenger lands on the table in front of her; the flap of his wings sweeps sheets of paper from her desk. He stares at her accusingly, with small, gleaming eyes and utters a loud caw that sharply cuts through the silence. _

The noise, though she is not sure if it was real or only in her hear, snapped her out of her trance. With the blink of an eye, the blood was gone, as was the crow. Outside, the clouds had turned back to their normal shades of grey.

It took a while for Elaine to remembered where she was, let alone to understand what had just happen. She stared down at her trembling hands. Her breathing was rapid and shallow; a bead of sweat trickled over her forehead, she wiped it away, shakily, with the back of her hand.

Something was seriously wrong with her.

Every time she saw this, someone… No, she couldn't think that. She wouldn't _allow_ herself to think this way. This was all in her head. She was imagining things, probably because she had not slept well in the last weeks. Insomnia could cause hallucinations. That was all there was to it, she was tired. It was the most logical explanation, no - the_ only_ explanation that made sense.

Then why had it felt so… real?

"You are not going mad", she said out loud and irony that she was now talking to an empty room almost made her burst out with hysteric laughter. She really needed to get some sleep. Shedding her boots, she crawled on her bed and pulled the covers around her, not bothering to undress. Maybe that was all she needed, a good night of sleep…

It was dark, her room only lit by the embers in the fireplace and the stars blinking brightly in the night's sky, when she woken by a loud knock on her door. For a moment, she was tempted to just pull the furs over her head and pretend she hadn't heard anything but when the late visitor kept beating at the door, she untangled herself from the covers with a groan and went to open the door. The guard on the other side looked almost a bit sheepishly at her ruffled hair and the weariness in her eyes.

"Sorry to bother you at this hour, M'lady, but… there's one of the Gra- a Dunmer downstairs who wants to see you. Says it's urgent. Should I tell him to clear off?"

She knew immediately that something was wrong.

"No. No, I'll be there in a moment. Did he or she give you a name?"

"It's a fellow, Maty-something. Sorry, M'lady, didn't listen good enough."

"Was it 'Malthyr' by any chance? I do know him."

"Might be so, M'lady."

Something was wrong. She had talked a few times with Malthyr Elenil at the New Gnisis Cornerclub but didn't know him well - certainly not well enough for him to come up to the palace at this hour without a very good reason. The thought made her mouth go dry and prompted her to hastily put her shoes back on and follow the guard downstairs with long strides.

Something was very, very wrong. _Don't be paranoid_, she tried to tell herself. _There has to be a simple, harmless explanation._

Her hope was shattered when she reached the Throne Room and saw Malthyr waiting for her near the door, pacing up and down. He rushed up to her as soon as she stepped into the hall, and even in the dim light, she could see his face was, even with the dark tone of his skin, almost pale. However, it was the look in his eyes, frantic and desperate, that told her the feeling of foreshadowing had been anything but nonsense.

"Elaine", he gasped. "You have to come with me, please-"

"What happened?"

"It's Vilvyni, she… please, just come with me."

"What… what happened?" Her mouth felt so dry, she could hardly speak. "Where is she?"

"There's not time, you have to come with me, maybe you can… you can still do something."

She hurried after him without another word.


	21. Chapter 21

_[A/N: Oh look, I'm still alive… down here, buried under this pile of work. I'm very sorry for the lack of updates. A turbulent real life teamed up with writer's block, that little minx, and the next weeks will continue to be busy for me, so all I can do is promise to do my best. _

_So… yeah. The chapter. First of all, I don't really like it and was only able to finish it with the help of a little alcohol to shut up the self-critical voice in the back of my head. Some editing will be done in the future. Second of all, this chapter was inspired by _Between Empires and Legends_ by the amazing _attackamazon_ and if you have read her absolutely fantastic story, you'll probably notice this. If you haven't read it, go ahead and do that right now._

_…_

_Did you read it? Awesome! Then on to the chapter!]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XXI**

* * *

From the moment she pushed open the door and stepped into Vilvyni's house, she knew she was too late. She could tell from the way Aval Atheron and Captain Lonely-Gale turned around to her, from the looks on their faces, tired and hopeless, from the way Luaffyn pressed a hand to her face to muffle the sobs, from the hard look on Suvaris's face while she gently rocked a sleeping Endryn in her arms.

And the lifeless body on the small bed.

"She stopped breathing a few minutes ago", the Captain said quietly.

Suddenly, Elaine couldn't breathe anymore. She didn't feel the warmth of the hearth fire. All she felt was a freezing cold, much worse than the winter outside, that paralyzed her.

_Too late._

_Too late._

For all she had accomplished, whenever those closest to her heart needed her, she failed. She had failed Vilvyni just like she had failed her brother. Had she been quicker or more careful… _Move on, _Vilvyni had told her, _move forward, _but how could she when this was happening over and over again? When she stepped closer, her whole body shaking, she automatically reached down to feel the pulse, fingers pressing down on the bruised, bloody wrist.

Nothing.

She put her fingers to Vilvyni's chapped, cold lips, already knowing she wouldn't feel the touch of warm breath.

_Look at her, _she told herself. _Look closely._

Vilvyni's face and neck were bruised, blue and purple against her dark skin, so much Elaine hardly recognized her. Both her eyes were swollen shut, blood had run from a gash on her temple, forming dried, crusted streaks on her cheek. Judging from the dark handprint on her neck, the Dunmer had been choked. Her abdomen was swollen under her dress. _Internal_ _bleeding, _the part of her mind that still thought rationally informed her dryly. _A healing potion probably wouldn't have worked quickly enough. _She took in the bruises on Vilvyni's arms, where strong hands must have grabbed her, the dried blood under her fingernails.

_She fought back._

Shakily, she exhaled, trying to fight back the wave of desperation. "Endryn?", she managed to choke out.

"He was with me", Suvaris said. The little boy was still asleep in her arms. "I'll take care of him for now."

"Bastard would have probably killed him, too", her brother spat.

Elaine let go of Vilvyni's arm, gently placed it at the Dunmer's side and closed her eyes for a moment. "Who?" She didn't want to know the answer and yet, she already knew. "Who did this?"

"Who do you think?", Aval huffed, voice dripping with rancour. "This isn't the first time Rolff 's beaten someone senseless. He's just taken the next step. And those friends of his probably stood around and watched."

"I found her", Luaffyn whispered, words muffled by the hand still pressed to her mouth. "I saw them walk away… they just _left _her there…" The Captain put a hand to her shoulder in an oddly gentle gesture when she buried her face in her hands and began to cry again.

"We'll take him before the king." Elaine turned around, facing the others. "You can tell him what you saw and he will-"

"He will do nothing", Aval interrupted, sharp and cold. "He won't lift a finger. It's his housecarl's brother. And even if it wasn't, he doesn't care about us. Never has, never will. That we live in nicer _houses_ now doesn't mean anything's changed, you know."

Elaine stared at him, hands clenched to fists at her side. "Luaffyn?"

The Dunmer shook her head firmly, her face still covered by her fingers. "If I say something, I'll be next", she whispered.

"So, you just let him get away with this?" She couldn't believe what she heard. How would things ever change if no one dared to speak up? She looked from one to the other but even Brunwulf or the Captain didn't dare to meet her eye. _How can they give up?_

"Easy for you to say - sitting up there with the rest of them", Aval spat. "You really think you can put a coat of paint over everything and suddenly things are fine? Nothing's changed for us but you don't have to care, do you?"

"Leave her alone, brother", Suvaris muttered wearily. A long, charged silence ensued.

Elaine stared at Aval, shaking with impotent fury of how he _dared_ to speak to her like that after all she had done, and at the same time trying hard to ignore the little voice inside her head whispering that he was actually right, that she had abandoned the people who cared about her, abandoned everything she believed in just because it had been so much more comfortable for her. And that everything she had done had not been as helpfulas she had convinced herself it would be.

"Well, maybe you're not going to do anything", she finally said rigidly, "but I will." And with that she stormed back outside, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

* * *

She felt neither the cold winter wind that swirled snowflakes through the night, tugged at her dress and her hair, brought burning tears to her eyes, nor did she feel the wave of heat when she pulled the door to Candlehearth Hall open, ignoring Elda's curious stare. Up on the second level of the inn, she found who she was looking for. Of course he was here at this time of day. And his drunk ranting and raving was audible even from downstairs.

"You _bastard_!"

Maybe it was only her imagination but it seemed as if he was expecting her. When he turned around, wiping away the stain of mead from his mouth with the back of his hand, there was the same crazed look in his eyes she had seen at their last confrontation. It would have scared her, if she had not desperately sought a vent for her wrath.

"Fancy seein' ya here, _Thane_. What d'ya want?"

"You know exactly what I want", she snarled and it startled him enough to wipe the sly smile from his face. He rose to his feet and fixated his eyes on her. With almost predatory observation, she noticed the way he staggered slightly and how he was carefully keeping a safe distance to her. Maybe that had something to do with the dagger she had drawn, without really thinking through what she would do next, her mind clouded by blind, boiling rage that finally broke its way to the surface.

"You're going to pay for this, do you hear me? You're not getting away with it this time, _murderer._"

The room had gone silent, people had sat down their bottles and where they had shot them curious glances before, everyone was now openly staring. She couldn't have cared less.

"I don't know what ya talkin' about."

"Of course you do!" The self-complacent grin on his face riled her up even more. He_ knew_ they were all too afraid to speak out against him. "Did you enjoy yourself, you sick son of a whore? Was it _fun_ to bet a helpless woman until she didn't move anymore?"

"Don't know what ya talkin' about", he repeated and his grin grew wider. "Sounds to me like she got it com-"

Something inside her snapped. With a frustrated cry, she raised the dagger, willing to do anything to _shut him up. _Taken aback, Rolff stumbled a step backwards but before she could even come close to him, her arms were caught by strong hands, and Brunwulf Free-Winter pulled her back.

"This isn't helping, girl", he grumbled in her ear. "You're not doing yourself a favor."

"Let go of me!" She almost screamed at him, breathing heavily as she struggled against his grip. "It's not going to bring her back, girl", he growled, though the pity was clear in his voice but she didn't _care_, she just wanted to make that sick bastard_ pay_…

Rolff had backed away a few steps and stared at them, a blank expression on his pale face. Even from here she could smell the mead he had drunk.

_Good. Just means h_e _can put up less resistance in a fight and-_

_What are you thinking? It's not going to bring her back. _

Brunwulf was still holding her arms, and only when her strength finally left her and she stopped struggling against him, she realized he had been forced to hold her tightly enough to bruise. _Breathe. Focus. _"Fine", she said, as calmly as possible, though she couldn't ban the trembling from her voice. The older man slowly let go of her. "I'll behave."

_Focus. _

"I ain't done nothin' wrong." Rolff was eyeing them suspiciously, and yet had the nerve to empty his tankard. He tossed it aside and looked at her with a drunken grin on his face , and when he added slyly: "Maybe the wench just made the wrong _friends_", she knew. This was because of her. His way of getting back at her. He had killed her friend because she had _insulted_ his _pride._

"Oh please!", she hissed. "You might be dumb as brick but you can't be stupid enough to think you'll get away with this-"

She saw him raise his hand as if he was about to hit her, then Brunwulf pushed past her and grabbed the other man by the collar to pull him away from Elaine harshly."That's enough!" Rolff, caught by surprise, stumbled and let out an irritated grunt but the mead had clouded his mind enough for him not to be able to fight against someone of his own size.

"You're coming with us." The old warrior shoved the man towards the door. "We'll see what the king has to say about this."

Elaine stared after them for a moment before she realized this was her sign to leave as well. Well aware of the fact that the whole room was gawking at her, she hurried after them with long strides and her head held high, trying to ignore her shaking knees and hands as well as the prying eyes riveted on her back.

This time, Ulfric couldn't just ignore what had happened. This time, he had to punish the man, brother of his housecarl or not. Even the king couldn't ignore the law to this extent, and if Rolff were to spend the rest of his life in prison, she would be content, even though she'd rather see him on the chopping block.

On the other hand, a quick, clean death would be much too merciful for a monster like him.

* * *

"What's the meaning of this?" It didn't take long for the king, with tired eyes and apparently hastily dressed, to arrive in the Throne Room after she had sent a guard to fetch him. Galmar followed him shortly after, scowling when he noticed his Rolff and the company he was in.

"What's going on here? Rolff?"

Before his brother could say anything, Elaine stepped forward and planted herself in front of the general, glad to have an outlet for her fury again. "I'll tell you what's going on. That_ pig_ you call your brother finally managed to kill someone!"

While Galmar stared at her bewildered before his gaze turned wary, Ulfric stepped forward, frowning at this revelation. "What?"

Elaine turned to face him. "Her name is… _was_ Vilvyni." She swallowed and gritted her teeth to keep the teeth from her eyes. _You will not cry. Not now. Not in front of them._ "I introduced you. At the complimentary festival."

"Ysmir's beard", he growled. "Yes, I remember." Turning to Rolff, his frown deepened. "Is this true?"

"'Course not", the addressed grunted. "And she was just an elf anyway."

"Just an-" Brunwulf, still standing by her side, put a hand on her arm, the gesture meant to be calming and cautionary. _Right._ She wasn't helping. "He _beat_ her to death with his bare hands. A defenseless woman." Elaine took a deep, shaking breath. "He orphaned her son."

"I'm guessin' you got a witness for that", Rolff snorted. "'Cause I don't see no one around here." In the presence of his brother and the king, he clearly didn't dare to act as boastful as he had in the inn but he wasn't as intimidated as she wished.

_I'll show him._

"No witnesses, eh?" Galmar chimed in, crossing his arms. "So you're just making unfounded accusations."

Brunwulf Free-Winter cleared his throat. "A woman saw him", he explained and she wondered how he was able to stay so calm. "But she's too afraid to come forward."

"What do you expect?" Elaine glared at the general who had crossed his arms and watched her with disdainful kind of annoyance. She knew exactly what she was to him - just some wench who dared not only to claim a place at his precious leader's side but now also threatened his kin. "She fears for her life and I don't blame her!"

"Or maybe she's just a bloody liar-"

"Enough!", Ulfric roared, and Elaine turned around on her heel to face him. The king rubbed his neck and closed his eyes for a moment, and she couldn't believe he actually had to _think_ about his decision on this matter. What _was _there to think about? Much less could she believe the words he spoke next.

"Elaine, calm yourself. Galmar, bring your brother to his home. Make sure he stays there. I'll deal with this in the morning."

_No. He can't possibly mean that._

"What is there to think about?", she hissed, barely able to ban the loathing from her voice. "He belongs in a prison cell, for the rest of his miserable life!"

"That's not for you to decide." She knew his tone, knew that he was about to lose his patience with her but she didn't' care. This was outrageous.

"Have you gone _mad_? You're willing to bend the law for_ him_?", she spat. "How can you _live_ with yourself?"

His face grew dark. "You're forgetting your place, woman. I have been tolerant with you but I'm warning you - do not overstep your boundaries."

She stared at him in disbelieve. Her _boundaries_? The _law_ was on her side, and yet he decided to bend it to fit his own will. All this time telling her how much he trusted her and valued her opinion – it had been all empty words.

_'Skyrim will always come first for him… and his own pride second. Everything - and everyone else will always come after that.'_

Jorleif had been wrong, she thought bitterly. It was his pride Ulfric cared most about, not Skyrim. He defied the laws of the country he was sworn to serve, only to do his _friend _a _favor_ – to protect _a murderer._ It was disgusting and pathetic and _weak._ What was her own fault, though, was that she had not realized this sooner. She should have known. She should have seen that when it came down to it, she was just another token in his games and he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice her, sacrifice _the law_ for his own benefit.

Aval had been right. Ulfric had not changed at all. She had simply refused to let herself see the truth, and now realization of this made her feel sick. How could she have ever been so blind, so horribly stupid not to see this?

"If this is where your loyalties lie", she tried to sound calm and composed but while her voice had stopped trembling, the aching pain in her chest made it hard to speak and she almost choked on her words, "then we have nothing left to say to each other."

"Get out!", he barked. She turned around on her heel and began to walk away from him with her chin raised, past the men who stared at her either malicious or pitiful, ignoring either of them. Brunwulf looked as if he wanted to say something but fell silent when she quickened her pace. She managed to leave the Throne Room without showing the weakness of running even though she couldn't get out of there fast enough. Behind her, she heard Ulfric growl, "Out! _All of you_!", and had she stayed, she could have seen him collapsing to the throne, staring after her, the hint of guilt in his eyes. But she didn't turn around.

If Ulfric wanted her gone, she would gladly do him the favor.

When she reached her quarters, she closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood, breathing heavily from the effort to keep her composure, trembling in every limb. And yet she found a part of her mind to be strangely calm and focused; a feeling as if she was watching herself from outside her own body, as if a cold, calculating part of her that could still act rationally had taken control for now, and it let her wipe the tears from her face and bring out her bag.

She didn't' even think about what exactly she was packing, stuffed random items into the bag, grabbed the books on her desk without looking at the titles, some clothes, a coin purse. It didn't really matter. Most things didn't truly belong to her anyway and the mere thought of bringing something along that he had _paid _for made her sick again.

When she was done, she waited for the gray of dawn and slipped out of the palace unseen by anyone but the guards who watched her curiously but said nothing but their usual greeting. She had left a short, hastily scribbled note for Muiri on her desk though it did not say where she would be going. She didn't know herself yet. All she was certain of was that she had no business in Windhelm any longer. The farther she went away, away from him, away from all of them, the better.

Maybe, had she stopped for a moment, Elaine might have realized she still wasn't in her right mind, that she acted in a mad rush and it would be reasonable to stop and think about what to do. Instead, all she knew right now was that neither would she be able to look him in the eye nor would she want to see him ever again. He had made his choice, and now she was making hers.

* * *

By now, he had done so often it was mere child's play to him. Find a way inside without being seen, find the place where they kept any written conversation and other kinds of information, get a look at what seemed most important - lucky for them, their enemy liked to document every move and every given order very conscientiously - then he'd leave everything in place as it was, and get out without anyone noticing. Since the agents were spread thin, there normally weren't too many guards around. For unexpected situations, he always carried a potion of invisibility with him but he usually managed to sneak into the ruin of the old fort unseen even without it. Nocturnal most likely had a hand in that.

He and Delphine had discussed informing the king of their operation and the Thalmor's continuing presence in Skyrim but ultimately had decided against it. Ulfric would most likely go ahead and burn every last one of the elves' many little hideouts to the ground - which would be fine with him, except it would undermine their goal to gather as much information about their enemies doing as they could. Since no one in or outside of Skyrim seemed to know more how great the threat they were facing actually was, it seemed like a good idea to find out more before striking against them.

They'd have to tell him eventually, though. They were already committing treason. He almost snorted scornfully at the thought. _Treason. _He had done more for this country than that self-absorbed bastard ever would…

_Focus._ He slowly exhaled when the soldier in her shining armor turned around to march back down the corridor._ Finally..._ He slipped inside the small room, closing the door behind him silently, and began to search the office in a routinely manner, rummaging through drawers, quickly skimming the papers he found before putting everything back in place. He didn't find much of interest, at least nothing he didn't already know, until he came across a small folder. Flipping through the pages, he wanted to put it aside at first, before a name caught his eye, a name that should absolutely not have been there, a name that - given where he had just found it - made his heart skip a beat in horror. Swallowing hard, he began to read more carefully.

This didn't seem right. What could they possibly want-? What interest could they have-? _Damn it._ Not bothering with remaining undetected anymore, he dropped the folder to the desk and headed off back to the door.

He had to get to her before they did.

* * *

_[A/N: Was that too much? Was it okay? Did I drag it out too long?_ _Can someone please shut up the hypercitrical little man in my head?_

_I'm sure you have lots of opinions on this, so please share them with me!]_


	22. Chapter 22

_[A/N: I know this isn't long but the ending of this felt like a good place to cut. You'll see. Next chapter will be mostly Saif's POV, since I know you're desperately waiting for him to return. ; )_

_By the way, I know I've been horrible with updates lately. Work and university and stuff, and the muse has not been very nice to me lately, either… I do hope it will get better at some point. Until then, please have patience with me and maybe leave me some lovin'?_

_Anyway, enjoy the read!]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XXII**

* * *

Elaine walked through the gate of the small village, along the road she knew led to the ruins of Helgen. She stopped to cut some Mora Tapinella from a tree stomp and carefully put it in the bag she carried with her, then proceeded to walk up the mountain. A fine blanket of snow covered the ground but though it was still the midst of winter, the first harbingers of spring already peeked from the cold ground. It was much warmer here in Whiterun Hold at this time of year than it was in Windhelm, and she would stop in her step from time to close her eyes and hold her face to the mild winter sun.

Elaine strolled along the road she knew led to the ruins of Helgen, and occasionally bent down to pick some mountain flowers. The medicine from them wouldn't be very strong but it was at least something.

And she needed something to do. It was just so quiet out here.

As much as she'd wanted to get away from the palace, here in Riverwood, there wasn't much to do for her. She had enough coin to pay for the small room in the inn for quite a while, so there was no need for her to earn more septims, either. She helped out the townspeople from time to time, healed minor injuries, the common cold, and mixed a stamina potion for old Hilde from time to time but other than that, she didn't have much work to do and she was left to her own devices.

Sure, she had a lot of time to read now but she hadn't brought many books with her and the local store didn't sell too many, either. She had tried to take long walks and that usually ended with her thinking too much - and then holing up in her room in the inn, trying not to cry and hating herself for it because she was just _pathetic_.

She missed the tumultuous hustle and bustle of the palace, the constant coming and going, her long debates with the king; she missed reading up and becoming acquainted with issues she had never even thought about before, her endless discussions with Jorleif about accounts and budgets, and even the sleepless nights when she completely forgot the time brooding over her desk until the candles burned low.

Out here, life was very quiet out here - and oftentimes she found it to be very boring.

She could have gone to Whiterun, maybe work in the temple again, and she had more than once thought about making the journey over to the Hold's capital. When the carriage driver had passed through Riverwood that night and asked her if this was where she wanted to be dropped off, she had nodded automatically, and now she had begun to , she didn't feel much motivation to leave again.  
Then again, she didn't feel much motivation for anything these days.

But this was where she belonged, with people of her own kind. A simple, tranquil life, without kings and Jarls and their dealings. She had never really strived for something greater, and in retrospect, it would have been wise to let the opportunities pass. Maybe she wasn't suited for this kind of life but most of all, she didn't want to be part of it. Not after she had seen what one could become when they lived in it for too long.

At least she hoped it was the life he had lived that had turned Ulfric to what he was because thinking he had always been like this, by nature, was even worse.

No, this was where she belonged. Now she only had to tell herself that often enough until she believed it.

But the worst thing was that she didn't hate him, and for that, she was angry at herself. She _should_ hate him. What he had done - or better, what he had _not_ done - had been outrageous and hideous, and a betrayal of her trust. But as much as his behavior disgusted her, she couldn't bring herself to hate him for it. She had realized that soon, after the first wave of anger and desperation had subsided, but she was much too stubborn and too proud to go back to Windhelm. Never in a thousand years would she come crawling back to him… And if he wanted her to come back, he would have found her by now. Since no messenger had appeared at the doorstep of the Sleeping Giant Inn, he apparently didn't miss her at all.

It made thinking of him all the more painful, so she tried to push him from her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. Her bag was almost full and she picked a last bundle of mountain flowers before turning back towards the village. A sudden rustling of leaves startled her, and she turned around on her heel to see what it was.

Black feathers shimmer in the sun. The bird sat on a branch up on a tree, cocked its little head to the side and clattered with its beak before it uttered a hoarse caw that echoed loudly through the valley. The breath hitched in her throat and shiver ran down her spine, the icy feeling tingling in her fingertips. They stared at each other for a moment, crow and woman both unmoving, before Elaine recovered and bent down to pick up a small rock. She threw it at the crow but missed by far. The bird flapped its wings and cawed again.

"Off with you!", she said loudly, picking up another rock. "Shoo!" Her second missile bounced off from the tree bole, near even for the crow to startle up. It hopped to another branch, flapped its black wings again and croaked another rasping sound that rang in Elaine's ears like malicious laughter. Then it fluttered away, up into the sky and over the mountain, gone as quickly as it had appeared. She watched it fly away, the dazing feeling in her body only subsiding when the crow was out of sight.

When it finally was gone, she remembered to breathe and inhaled deeply, trying to focus. _Just a damn bird, _she tried to remind herself. _No reason to throw a tantrum. You're not going mad._

_Then maybe I should stop talking to birds._

With another deep breath, she pulled herself together and headed back to Riverwood. When she arrived back at the inn, Frodnar was there with a grazed knee that distracted her for a while, and after dinner, her ingredients had to be sorted and packed away. By the time she got up from her small alchemy laboratory, it was dark outside and the inn had gone quiet.

Hours later, she started from her sleep and sat up straight in bed, suddenly wide awake, but unsure what had awoken her - until she heard another loud thud from the taproom. Frowning, she slipped out of bed, shivering when her bare feet touched the cold stone floor. In the darkness of her room, she fumbled for a cloak and threw it over her nightgown before she pushed open the door of her room. "Orgnar?"

A flash of light, a scratching sound behind her, and then, before she could turn around, a sharp pain in her temple, and the world faded into darkness.

* * *

Saif watched quietly from a distance as the townspeople carried the two dead guards outside. He had found them on the floor of the Sleeping Giant Inn, talked to a distraught Orgnar and then searched Elaine's room but found nothing of interest.

If he had arrived only a few hours earlier… _No. _He couldn't think like that, it would lead to nothing but madness. And he could still catch them - if only he knew in what direction they were headed. _Think_, he told himself as he slipped through the hidden door and proceeded down the stairs to Delphine's secret room, while he tried to push the thoughts off his mind of all the things they could do to her in any minute he wasted. _Think. There aren't that many places they could take her. And they won't risk traveling far with a prisoner._

He bent of the map and traced the drawn roads and settlements and old forts with a finger. _Think. _They wouldn't go north, too many patrols around Whiterun. East? No, they'd have to take the road around the mountain, and they wouldn't go near Windhelm. South, then… and there was a mountain range in the way.

_Cracked Tusk Keep._

With a frown, he found the old fort on the map, west of Falkreath deep in the wilderness of the woods.

_Could be. Can you be sure? No. And if you're wrong, she could already be dead. Or worse._

Gritting his teeth, Saif slammed a fist on the table. A few hours, and he could have protected her… _Think. _Cracked Tusk Keep made sense. It was one of their little hideouts, an old ruin no one bothered about, secluded, and, as far as he knew, with a dungeon for their prisoners. They would need at least two days to get there, and they had a head start on him but not more than half a day, he could still catch up with them before they got there.

Crumpling up the map in his hand and shoving it into his pocket, he stormed out of the room, not even bothering to close the secret door in the closet behind him.

_I can still reach her in time. I have to._

* * *

The first thing she noticed was how much her head hurt. Then the way the way her legs were bent. When she carefully tried to move her limbs, the cold, uneven stone surface she was lying on scratched through the thin nightshirt. _Where am I? _She blinked and tried to suppress the rising fear when the memories came back. Riverwood. The inn. A noise. _What happened? _The air was moist and cold and smelled foul; from somewhere, the soft dripping of water reached her ears. _A cellar?_

"Look at that", a strange voice said. A man, she thought, but a high-pitched voice. She didn't know him. "The little girl is waking up."

When she finally managed to open her eyes, the realization kicked in. She wasn't lying on the ground. She was strapped to a wall, kneeling, her arms spread wide, the wrists in chains. Panic flared up in her, and seized with fear, she struggle against her bonds.

The voice _tsk'd _scornfully. When her captor stepped out of the shadows and into the light, she immediately stilled, paralyzed by fear when she realized what had happened. An Altmer, dressed in black robes, watching her with mild interest; behind him, she could see iron bars with spikes blocking an entrance to the dark room she was in. A prison. A cell.

_I should have known. He told me this would happen. Why didn't I listen…_

"Now", the mer stepped closer to her and she felt herself flinching and retreating as far as the chains allowed, until the back of her head met the wall. "I'll make this very easy for you. You answer my questions about that king of yours, and I don't have to hurt you. If you don't talk…" A sizzling sound; lighting tingled around the fingers of his right hand. "I'll have to make you. Are we clear?"

She couldn't take her eyes of the dancing flashes. Her stomach turned, and she couldn't breathe anymore, her lungs felt like they were being corded up. A had paralyzing cold had seized her body, and suddenly, with a sharp, almost cold kind of clarity, she knew was going to die down here.

But she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"I'm not telling you a thing", she hissed and spat in his direction. In the next moment, he had grabbed her chin with his free hand and she inhaled sharply when he forcefully yanked her head up to meet his eyes.

"Oh, you will", he almost cooed, "trust me, little girl, you will tell me everything I want to know. For now…" He brought his right hand up, a ball of violet flashes in his palm, so close to her head she could smell the stench of her own burned hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, tried to jerk her head away but the Thalmor was holding her too tightly.

_No. No, no, no, this can't be happening, please…_

When the bolt of lightning struck her face, all she felt was white agonizing pain, sharp like a razor's edge, cutting not only through her face but through her whole being, and her own screams resounded in her ears. When he finally stopped, she hung loosely in her bonds, her mind blank except for the unbearable burning on her cheek.

"Do you still feel rebelliously, girl?"

Maybe it was the amusement in his voice that stirred defiance in her, even though it might have been more reasonable to comply. _What for? He's going to kill me anyway._

"Oblivion take you!", she breathed and whimpered when he gripped her chin again.

"Foolish girl", the mer smiled and it was the smile of a predator eyeing its prey. "Don't worry. I shall teach you how to behave. You'll break in time."

She knew he was right. She knew it probably wouldn't take him long. Then she thought of her brother who had died for her, of her father and her mother, of Windhelm, its high stone walls that had made her feels safe, of the palace and all the people that she cared for, that she loved. _Ulfric._ What he had gone through to be where he was now. Of all the things he could still achieve, the good he could do; that she knew he would do, despite his flaws, despite his own demons.

If she was to die down here she would fight until the last moment.

* * *

Blood drips down her face, in her eyes, blinding her; the smell of her own burned flesh is indelibly branded in her mind. She screams herself hoarse until she is too weak to utter a sound. How long she has been down here in her dark, cold cell, she doesn't know anymore, hours, days, maybe weeks or years or decades; time runs together to an endless stream of pain and darkness. The world frays on its edges, flickers from blind, white agony to red and grey and sometimes soothing black nothingness until her interrogator comes for her again. She hangs in her chains with no strength left in her limbs, and the line blurs between what is real and what is a feverish dream.

The crow comes to her often now, sits still on the opposite site of the cell, watching her - or over her - with glistening round eyes. She is not afraid of it anymore; she welcomes it like an old friend and hopes it will take her away with it. She knows a body can only take so much pain, and she prays to the gods for hers to give up soon. Maybe her interrogator will at one point misestimate his treatment. It would be such a relieve to finally be allowed to die.

When she finally can't take anymore, she is proud of how long she was able to withstand, and then she feels ashamed of how relieved she is that the pain is finally subsides, if only for a while. Her interrogator makes it very clear he isn't done with her; while he heals the wound, magic tingling over the raw flesh of her face, easing the pain, describes in detail what else he has in store for her, and the warm relief the healing spell brings is erased by the certainty of what will follow. She is glad she is already too weak to cry.

He heals her just enough so she will stake awake. The agonizing pain blurs with the shame over her weakness, over the feeling of helplessness. He doesn't bother chaining her to the wall again. He doesn't have to. She has no strength left to heal herself, and when he releases her from his grasp, she collapses to the floor in a quivering bundle of limbs. Before he leaves, he chuckles, amused by pathetic, miserable state, and when he finally locks the door behind him, a tear trickles over the mesh of scars and poorly healed wounds on her cheek, and she desperately waits for the darkness to swallow her.


	23. Chapter 23

_ [A/N: Yay, I'm back. Please excuse the irregular updates lately. The muse behaves a bit fickle these days, and it's summertime, so I'm terribly busy lying around on the beach and drinking cocktails. (Also, work.)_

_Anyway. Before you continue further,__** I would like to ask your opinion on this whole love triangle thing.**__ Specifically, how much of it you want to see and how intensely you want it to be. More one-sided angst? More emotional stuff? Drunk sex plus hang-over regrets? I do know by know how things will turn out in the end but the way there is still somewhat open, and I'm curious what you would want to see. So, please, leave a review, PM me, send me smoke signals with your opinions and wishes._

_Alright. Here's the new chapter, this time completely from Saif's POV. Hope you enjoy. :3 ]_

* * *

**STORMCROW - XXIII**

* * *

With a fluid motion, Saif slit the throat of the last guard and stepped out of shadows, guiding the body down to the floor with as little noise as possible just in case he had missed one of them. The mer only uttered a small, gargling sound and was dead before she touched the ground. He quickly wiped the dagger on his cloak before he proceeded on his way down the dark corridor with fast steps.

He didn't have to search long for her. Only three cells were down here in the vault and he found her in the first one, curled up in a ball on the stone floor in a corner of her prison. Her nightdress, dirty and torn, shimmered bright in the darkness. Her matted hair hung over her face and she didn't stir, even when he called out her name. When he activated the mechanism and the bars, ever so slowly, sank down into the ground, he hurried into the cell and kneeled beside her. "Elaine…"

She still didn't move, and he gently brushed her dark hair away to reveal her face - and drew in a sharp breath, horrified at the sight. _Gods, what did they do to her… _A widespread web of scars covered the left side of her face, from her temple over her cheek to the chin, the skin a cratered landscape, and then down her neck and almost to her shoulder where the flesh was still open and raw. The left brow was completely gone and he didn't have much hope for the sight in her left eye.

Saif had seen his fair share of scars and injuries, and the sight itself didn't bother him as much as did the thought of what kind of hell she had gone through to receive them.

The _dovah_ raised its head and snarled furiously, the sound echoing in the head of the man who harbored the beast, wishing it could raise those who did this from the dead and kill them again, this time much more slowly.

_Focus. _

With slightly shaking fingers, he pressed two fingers to the undamaged skin on her neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt her heartbeat under his fingertips. "Elaine", he whispered again and gently touched her shoulder. He had to get her out of here.

When he wrapped his arms around her to pick her up, her eyes suddenly snapped open and she began to struggle against him with a strength he would not thought her capable of, her mouth moving, forming words she couldn't voice. Her eyes were wide open and yet they were so empty, it was very clear her mind wasn't yet here with him._ "_Elaine", he hissed again and, despite himself, had to catch her wrists and hold her tight until the strength left her and she sank back to the floor, her fingers still clawing to the buckles of his armor. "Elaine, it's me." As gently as possible, he wrapped his arms around her shivering body, noticing with gritted teeth, how feverish she felt.

"You're save", he whispered. "I'm getting you out of here."

Agonizing seconds ticked. Finally, even though her voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper but he felt a weight lift from his heart at the sound of it: "Saif?"

"It's alright", he mumbled, fumbling with the pockets on his armor to pull out two small bottles. The rest of his potions were in his saddle bag but this would at least be enough to get her out of this place. She swallowed both the health and stamina potion obediently, then tried to sit up, and he had to catch her when she almost fell back to the ground again. "Saif, I…" She choked on the words, tears glistening in her eyes, and he preempted her by pulling his cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it around her. "Later", he muttered, scooping her up in his arms. She felt as light as a feather. "Right now, we just need to get out of here."

She lay still and tensed in his arms as they made their way upstairs. They had almost made it outside, when suddenly, a tall figure in shining armor blocked the staircase, a sword in one hand.

_Damn it._

He had been sure he had gotten all of them on his way done.

Elaine whimpered in his arms, and he felt her fingers tighten around his shoulders. He had to put her down first…

"Did you really think you would leave here alive, _Dragonborn_?", the elf spat, making a step forward. There wasn't much room to move in the corridor. He had to get upstairs, into the room. "Now you're both going to die."

_Not today. _"Keep your head down", Saif growled and pressed Elaine tighter to his chest as he took a deep breath. "_ZUN DAAL_!" The Shout thundered through the corridor, and the elf's sword slipped from his hand and flew in a high arc across the room, clashing against the wall and falling to the floor with a clanking sound.

Saif wasted no time to put Elaine down; as soon as she stood on her own two feet, she staggered backwards, away from the Thalmor until her back collided with wall. The Dragonborn spun around, a hand on the hilt of his sword. He didn't have to think about this, every movement was pure instinct, trained to often it had long become ingrained. He lunged at the elf just as he was bending down to reach for his weapon, grabbed his opponent by the collar of his armor to yank him upwards and closer to himself. At the same time, he drew his sword with a sudden movement, hoicking it from the sheath to ram the pommel into the Altmer's face. The mer cried out, blood running from his now broken nose, and struggled to break free from Saif's grip. Then his eyes grew wide and a gurgling sound escaped him before the life left his eyes and he fell to the ground.

Saif pulled his weapon from the mer's chest and hurriedly wiped the blood from the blade. Turning around, he exhaled in relief when he found Elaine unharmed. _Not more harmed than before, _a dark voice whispered in his head, _and whose fault is that? _ Gritting his teeth, he tried to shut out the thought, reaching for Elaine's hand. Her eyes were wide, full of fear and she couldn't take them from the body in the growing pool of blood. "Come on", his grip on her hand tightened and he gently pulled her with him. "We need to get out of here. Now." She was shaking, tense like a scared rabbit, but she managed to stumble after him.

When he pushed open the door, she squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight. "C'mon", he impelled, guiding her away from the fort. Her bare feet stumbled over roots and rocks but he couldn't give her more time to gather herself, even though he hated himself for being so cruel to her, but they couldn't waste a moment; who knew how many more guards were around here somewhere.

His horse waited patiently where he had left the stallion in the woods, and it took him only a few moments to lift Elaine into the saddle and pull himself up behind her. She trembled and shook when he wrapped an arm around her to hold her tightly. Out here in the sunlight, the scar on her face looked even worse, red and raw, and she had still squeezed her eyes shut, almost curling up into a ball in front of him.

_She's going to be alright, _he told himself, ignoring the voice in his head that told him differently. _She's going to be alright. She has to be._

* * *

By the time they reached Falkreath, she had been half asleep, half unconscious. He carried her into the inn, mumbling something about bandits to Valga, and the innkeeper had offered to fetch Zaria from the potions shop. The alchemist had brought a few healing potions and a sleeping potion. He had carefully undressed her, washed away dirt and blood from her skin, careful not to touch the scarred tissue, and put her in a fresh tunic Valga had considerately brought him.

Now, Elaine was vast asleep in the only bed in the small room, and he sat in the chair across from her, watching over her, listening to her steady breathing. Saif himself was tired to the bone as well, and yet he was wide awake. For once, it was not only the dragon soul that did not let him sleep, but his conscience as well. None of this should have happened. He should have been there with her, _for_ her. He could have prevented this. Instead, he had run away and now she had paid the price for his cowardice. The _dovah_ growled, dangerously low, threatening.

For once, he agreed with the dragon in him.

* * *

The potion was strong enough to let her rest for almost a day, and it was a merciful and dreamless sleep. When she woke up, she was quiet, avoiding his eyes, and stayed curled up under the sheets. He knew he would have to ask her about her interrogator's questions sooner or later but he couldn't bring himself to torture her even more. Not now. It was much too soon, he told himself.

The following night was far worse. She didn't scream. She didn't even cry. It took him, dozing in his chair, a few moments to realize she was awake, lying on her back, staring up to the ceiling with wide open eyes full of horror, breathing hard, almost panting as if she had been running a mile. When he touched her trembling, she almost hissed and jerked away from him, only calmed down when he sat with her and gently reasoned with her until her mind came back to him. Then she curled up under the blankets, burying her face in her arms. "I'm sorry." Her voice was not more than a whisper. He stroked her hair and told her everything was going to be alright. "I'm here, _brii_." The word was out before he knew what he was doing. _Beauty. _

_That's was she is, _he thought, gently running his fingers through her dark locks. _Even now. Even if others don't see it anymore. It's what she is to me._

* * *

Elaine had sat up in bed on the second day, had allowed him to examine the scar to make sure the wound was fully healed. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line but to his relief, she seemed much more composed and calm than before. The potions had obviously done their work. The raw flesh was healed, leaving behind only a web of fire scars, pink and slightly raised on her otherwise creamy skin. There was nothing to be done about those.

She hadn't lost sight in the eye completely but almost. When she held a hand over the unharmed eye and blinked a few times, she shrugged and tried to look unaffected. She was able to see light and shadows, forms and colors, she told him, but nothing clearly, as if everything was behind a grey veil. When he asked if the scars hurt badly, she shook her head and told him her skin only felt stretched and tightened, uncomfortable and unpleasant, but bearable. That was something, at least.

"Could I… can you hand me that?"

Saif followed her gesture towards the table, confused at first, until he understood what she meant. "Listen, I don't know if that's-…" The look on her face, stern and hard, silenced him. It was too soon, he thought, but she he was going to see it eventually. And she had to live with it. No use in stalling the moment… So he obeyed and put the apples aside to hand the plate to her. She took it, with sudden hesitation and he saw her taking a deep breath before she raised the platter and looked at her reflection.

He swallowed and watched, with a growing feeling of helplessness, as she exhaled sharply and her eyes grew wide before she suddenly dropped the improvised mirror, staring into space, her face expressionless. But he could see her lips trembling and desperately searched for something to say.

"It's not that bad." It sounded shallow even in his own ears and it earned him a huffed noise from her, somewhere between a snort and a dry sob.

"Not that bad", she repeated, a bitter tone to her voice that he couldn't blame her for. "They burned half my face off." With that, she tossed the plate aside and coiled herself up under the covers again, with her back to him.

Once again, he had no idea what to tell her. He wasn't good at this, he realized - he wasn't used to company any more. He had killed Thalmor, giants and dragons and _the bloody World Eater_, but right now, he had no idea how to comfort her; nothing he could say would make it better or easier for her, he'd probably only made things worse. So he said nothing, only waited in the uncomfortable silence that ensued.

"I'd like to be alone now", she whispered after a while and the tears he could hear in her voice broke his heart. She shouldn't be said. The scar didn't matter much, not to him.

_I still love her. How could I not?_

He left the room without a word, settling down on a chair in the taproom, right beside her door, as a watchman, dark and silent.

* * *

Night had fallen when he came back and her steady breathing told him Elaine was asleep again. He took a seat in his chair again with as little noise as possible so he wouldn't wake her, stretching his legs. After a while, he drifted into a light sleep, reassured by his sword on the table, the dagger on his belt, and the sturdy lock in the door.

A few hours later, rustling sounds woke him and he shot up from his seat, the dagger drawn before he even came to his feed. Elaine froze, upright in the bed, and they stared at each other for a moment. The unharmed half of her face was even paler than it had been in the evening; or maybe it was only the silver moonlight on her skin. Her hair was ruffled and the tunic had slid up to reveal her thighs but her eyes weren't small from sleep. She must have been awake for a while.

When he realized no one but them was here and sheathed his weapon, she continued to kick away her covers and got out of bed, almost tumbling in her desperate effort to reach the door. "Elaine…" He was behind her in a moment to put a hand over hers on the lock that she couldn't get open with her hands shaking once again. "What's wrong?"

"I need to get outside", she breathed, her voice strained from the struggle to maintain her composure. "I need to get out of her, please…"

He didn't ask, only turned the key and opened the door for her. The taproom was dark except for the dying embers in the hearthfire, and and he glanced around, instinctively screening every corner of the room, a hand on the hilt of the dagger on his belt. The room was empty.

Elaine had a hand pressed over her mouth and once they stepped outside, she immediately broke away from him, stumbled down the stairs and fell to her knees on the ground in front of the porch before he had a chance to help her. She gagged, on her hands and knees in the dirt, her head bent down, and he could do nothing but hold her hair back and stroke her back while she choked and brought up the small dinner she'd had earlier.

When it was over, he helped her stand up and gently wiped her mouth with a piece of cloth. She avoided his eyes in embarrassment, mumbled something about how he didn't have to come with her but he ignored her, instead sat her down on the stairs. In the distance, a guard strode between the houses and vanished around a corner, taking the light of his torch with him, leaving the streets dark again except for the silver shine of the moons and stars.

They sat on the stairs in silence for a while. She took a deep breath, wiped over her mouth with a sleeve, swallowed. "I'm sorry", she finally mumbled, and he turned his head and gave her a smile. "Don't worry about it. Nothing to be sorry for." At last, she looked at him and although she didn't smile, at least she seemed calm again.

"Thank you", she whispered. "I don't think I can ever repay you."

"You don't have to." There were so many things he wanted from her,_ with_ her, and while those things were the reason he had searched for her, it was nothing he could ever ask, much less demand anything from her. Then again, he wondered where all of this left them.

"Listen", he added softly, glad to have something else to talk about, "if you feel strong enough by tomorrow, we need to get back to Windhelm."

He hadn' expected Elaine's posture to change so quickly. She seemed to shrink, hunched her shoulders and bit her lip as if he had reminded her of something very uncomfortable."I don't have a choice, do I?"

This was… strange. And it reminded him of the question he had asked himself since he had found out about her whereabouts in Riverwood. She had built herself a life in Windhelm, had been made Thane, for gods' sake, and then… just left everything behind?

Something had happened.

_What did the bastard do to her?_

The dovah lifted its massive head and snarled, immediately furious at the thought of the other man laying a hand on her. Saif tried his best to shut him up, even though he suddenly felt more and more like wreaking havoc in a bandit's camp, or maybe a vampire's lair.

_Or maybe crushing Ulfric's skull beneath his boots. _

"It's the safest place for you right now", he said calmly, despite himself. "And Ulfric needs to know what happened." This would probably not be the best time to tell him about everything the Blades had found out but it was as good as any. No matter how much Saif despised the king, if there was anyone with enough power to fight the Dominion, it was Ulfric.

She made a small sound, a throaty, hoarse sob. "Does he?"

"Yes." He reached over to her and took her hand in his. _Cold as ice,_ he thought, even though the night air was only a little cool. At least the panic-fuelled tremors in her fingers were gone. "He does." They stayed like this for a while, silent, while he wondered what all of this meant.

"Elaine", he said, as calmly as he possibly could. "What happened?"

"Nothing." It came out too quick, too forcefully and she must have realized it herself. "I don't want to talk about it", she added, once again refusing to look at his face, staring instead at a point in the dirt on the street before them.

"Did he hurt you?" He almost growled at her, unable to stop himself, but he _had_ to know…

"What?" Her head snapped up. It seemed it had not occurred to her that Saif could somehow come to this conclusion. That was almost reassuring… almost. It was not nearly enough to dim the hatred he felt for the king. "No… no, he wouldn't do that."

He wasn't so sure about that but it was clear she would tell him nothing more so he let it go. He would find out in time. And if he learned differently than what she had just told him, Ulfric would soon regret his actions_. Deeply._

_"_Come on", he finally grumbled. "Let's go back inside. You need to sleep."

To his relief, she didn't argue and allowed him to lead her back inside and tuck her into bed. As he wanted to get up, her grip on his hand tightened. "Please don't go", she whispered, "Stay with me." And she sounded so desperate, so lonely, so small, he couldn't tell her no, even though every fiber of his body screamed that this was a bad idea, that he should not to give in.

He did give in, and told her with half a laugh, that was supposed to sound amused, to scoot over, then laid down beside her. The bed wasn't broad enough to leave much space beside him, and the warmth of her body engulfed him like a cocoon. When he turned his head to the side to look at her, she had already closed her eyes. There was the faintest of smiles on her lips and it warmed him more than any fur could and almost made his heart burst with joy. _Being close to her is worth a thousand deaths._

He didn't find much rest that night, though. In her sleep, she slid closer to him, seeking the comfort of his warmth, and was now nestled up to his side, her face pressed to his shoulder. There was no space to move away from her and no way of getting up without waking her. But her hot breath on his shoulder, the feeling of her leg close to his thighs, her hand on his chest with her touch burning on his skin like wildfire - it was more than enough to send waves of boiling heat to his midsection, even though he desperately tried to fight down his need. This was anything but the right time, he would never dare to suggest anything to her right now...

The _dovah_, however, thought differently. _Have her, _he roared and though he tried desperately, it was impossible to shut him out, _take her, make her your mate, claim her, right now…_ And, gods, she wasn't helping, being so close to him, the smell of her skin and hair flooding his senses, her soft curves pressed to his side…

He bit back a groan, squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the night to be over soon.


	24. Chapter 24

**Stormcrow – XXIV**

_There's a moon to let  
In the outskirts of Jupiter  
A moon to let  
There's an empty space  
Where the air comes by courier  
A moon to let_

_They say it's cold out there  
But nothing could be colder than here  
You will soon forget  
How the earth lost the jury  
On this moon to let _

- Tina Dico, "Moon To Let"

* * *

Thick clouds hung in the sky and the cold wind blew snowflakes through the air. Saif felt Elaine shiver in front of him in the saddle, despite the woolen clothes and thick coat he had bought for her. She had looked ashamed that he spending even more septims on her and promised him to pay him back but she had been far too tired for wholehearted protest. For the whole journey from Riverwood to Windhelm, she had stayed silent and he had held her tightly against his chest in case she'd doze off in the saddle. His horse was strong enough to carry the both of them easily and fast, so it took them only a few hours until they reached their destination.

The city was as dark and cold and uninviting as he had remembered. They left the horse at the stable and made their way to the gate and from there through the snowy, narrow allys. People turned and gawked and whispered when they passed by, and for once, he knew it wasn't because of him.

Elaine still had not fully recovered and the long ride had worn her out. He adjusted his strides to her smaller, slower steps, and when she stumbled a bit from time to time, he caught her arm and helped her steady herself. For the whole way up to the palace, she kept her eyes fixed on the ground before her. She knew the people here, probably knew almost everyone by name, yet she carefully avoided meeting anyone's gaze. In truth, she looked as if she wished the ground would open and swallow her up, and the thought of her feeling _ashamed_ made him, in return, feel sick.

People would talk, that'd what they always did. She would, so he hoped, learn not to care.

He held the massive door to the palace open for her, ignoring the guards' open stares. If Elaine had hoped to be safe now from prying eyes, the nobles and servants gathered in the throne room proved her wrong. Saif felt her shrink with tension beside him and gently took her elbow. "C'mon", he mumbled, catching sight of the king at the far end of the hall. Curious and eyes followed them, the appalled whispers even louder than down in the city.

They were halfway through the room when Ulfric turned around. For a moment, only the split of a second, there was horror written on his face before he regained his composure again and the look on his face was just as cold and detached as ever. Saif's stomach twisted with blazing hatred; how did he _dare _receiving her so indifferent?

Beside him, Elaine shifted slightly and uttered a sharp, voiceless breath. A quick glance told him she wasn't looking at the floor anymore but didn't meet the Ulfric's gaze either.

Suddenly the room was almost silent. Then the king's voice echoed through the hall. "Leave us", he said loudly and people began to move rather hastily, until the throne room was empty but for the three of them and Galmar who had taken his place behind the king, like the obedient _watchdog_ that he was.

When they finally where alone, Ulfric turned to face them. "What happened?"

For some reason, those words were enough to make him see red. The dragon roared, the sound audible for no one but him and yet ringing in his ears, and Saif seized his opponent by the collar and shoved him against the wall with enough force to knock the air out of Ulfric's lungs.

"You were supposed to protect her", he hissed, holding him in place with more strength than any human should possess, not sure if this was the dragon or himself or maybe both who spoke the words; his attention was fixated on the pulsating vein on the man's neck; all he knew was he wanted to wrip his throat out; it would be such a joy to see the life leave this body…

Behind him, the brazen sound of a weapon being drawn. "Get your hands off him, worm, or I'll cut you down", he heard Galmar growl, and a throaty sound escaped him, maybe something like a chuckle, because he _really_ wanted to see him try…

"Saif", he heard Elaine behind him, her voice bare of emotions and yet sharp as a knife. "Let him go. This was not his fault."

Her words - maybe it was more the tone of her voice - cut through the fog in his mind, reached the small part of him that could still think clearly and brought him back to reality long enough to realize what he was doing. _Focus._ He exhaled slowly and loosened his grip, then made a hasty step back.

Ulfric relaxed slowly and raised a hand halfway to his throat before he realized what he was doing and dropped it again. "I should have your head for that", he growled.

The_ dovah_ snarled and Saif almost made the same noise. "Try me."

A part of him wished he would, it would be so pleasant to blow off steam, kill a few of the king's guards and then run a sword through his chest -

_Focus._

"What happened?", the king repeated, dangerously low, and it was enough to make Saif grit his teeth in anger again. Elaine still hadn't moved but now she raised her chin and met the king's gaze. Her eyes were hard and cold, and once again he wondered what exactly had happened between them. The last time he had seen them, they had danced around each other like love-struck adolescents, and now…

"What do you_ think_ happened?", she snarled, her voice just as icy as the look on her face. "You predicted it, after all. Remember?"

"You shouldn't have left", Ulfric barked.

"And you shouldn't have protected a murderer", she hissed. "Don't you dare tell me what to do." Saif raised his brows and glanced over to Galmar. The general was watching the two but seemed not as confused about their fight as Saif felt. _Seems I'm the only one who has no idea what's going on, _he thought grimly. It wouldn't make his task much easier. He has hoped to put her influence on the king to good use, unfortunately it seemed that was not an option any more. Maybe it was better this way – for her, at least. Had she asked him, he would have told her right away Ulfric wasn't any good for her.

Now the same growled, dangerously low. "You're forgetting your place, woman."

_If he talks to her like that one more, I swear, I'm going to – _

To his surprise, Elaine seemed to think the same. Her laugh wasn't far from hysterical but her voice sounded as clear and sharp as before. "Right. Forgive me, _my king_. I'll go pack my things."

Ulfric gave no answer, only stared at, visibly trembling with anger, as she met his gaze without any sign of fear and then turned her back on him and left without another word. Seconds ticked while the room was completely silent while the three men stared after her. Then Saif cleared his throat, breaking the silence. „She can't leave", he said slowly, "She'll be in danger anywhere she goes." _They weren't done with her._

"The Thalmor?"

When Saif gave a curt nod, Galmar grunted disdainfully. "What did she tell them?"

He shrugged, though he'd rather have smashed the man's face in. His nerves were still strained, the dovah lurking beneath the surface of its vessel's composure. "I haven't talked to her about it yet. She was barely alive when I found her."

The general grunted again in response. "Told you", he said turning to Ulfric, "that girl's going to be trouble."

_Should I ever get the chance, I'll kill you first._

For now, Saif chose to ignore him. "The guards in Riverwood were yours, I assume?"

The king nodded. The frown on his face deepened but other than that, Saif found his expression hard to read. It wasn't exactly anger. It would be, though, once he told him what he had been doing all this time. "How did you find her?"

Seemed like now was a good moment. "I've been keeping track of their movements in Skyrim. They've established a small network of agents here."

"And you didn't bother to inform me of this."

"No. You would have slaughtered them all and we would know nothing."

Ulfric looked close to losing his patience, but hesitated. "And what is it we know?"

That was a start, at least.

"For one thing, you might want to do put more effort in securing the Reach. They've been stirring up trouble. More than usual. The Forsworn are getting bold and what's worse is they're getting organized. The last thing you want is another uprising. And then there's Cyrodiil."

Ulfric huffed resentfully. "Why would I concern myself with the Empire?"

"Stop acting like a bloody fool." Not that he had not expected it… "What do you think will happen if they put one of their puppets on the throne? Titus Mede is old and he doesn't have an heir. As far as I know, at least three parties will fight over his heritage when he dies. Which means bloodshed, if not another civil war."

Saif almost felt sorry for the old man. He may have been naïve in his believe that the concordat would bring peace but he had been a skilled military strategist and a wise ruler at his time, and Saif did believe the Emperor still had only his people's best interest at heart. And Titus Mede was no fool, he surely knew what was eventually going to happen after his death. Knowing that the people of his court would eventually soil the memory of him and render void all of his work must surely be painful.

"What's that to do with us?", Galmar chimed in again. "If they want to fight over it like skeevers over a piece of carrion, let'em. Let'em tear each other apart over it."

_Bloody fool doesn't even being to describe you._

"The Thalmor have quite a few friends in the court", Saif continued sharply as if he had heard nothing, "Friends with power. Friends whom they will try sit on the throne. If they succeed, you will have two armies at your doorstep before you know it. If they don't - well, they'll simply wait until there's nothing left of the Empire before they conquer the shreds. And then you'll be surrounded. That is why you should _concern yourself_ with the Empire." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I know you don't like to hear this but killing Elisif was a mistake. She could have been useful."

As expected, the king's face darkened. "That decision wasn't yours to make. I'm not going to explain myself to you, Dragonborn." He paused for a moment, then: "So they plan to one their own on the throne."

"Someone they can control, yes. We have to prepared for anything."

The king looked up with a scowl; he didn't even bother to hide his distrust. _Well, it goes both ways, doesn't it?_

"We?"

Saif crossed his arms without taking his eyes from the king. "The Blades offer you their help, Ulfric. And I strongly advise you to accept it. Because very soon, you will need all the help you can get."

* * *

"I told you", she heard Saif's voice behind her in the war room as she left for the stairs. "I told you _months _ago this would happen. Damn it, you were playing _right_ into their hands."

A small part of her wanted to stay and listen but she didn't really need to hear it to understand what was she didn't want to think about it. She_ couldn't_ think about it, not until she knew what to do.

Right now, she felt like a rabbit in a trap: she couldn't leave, it wasn't safe and the fear at the mere thought they would come back for her was paralyzing; and yet how could she stay here when she had barely been able to affront Ulfric? Moments ago she'd hardly been able to restrain herself from falling to her knees and begging him to forgive her, and she had never hated herself this much. She had nothing to be sorry for. _He _should be the one to apologize _to her._ And yet she had almost faltered under his anger.

All she wanted was to go home but there was no home to go back to.

Reaching her room without meeting someone, as she had hoped, proved to be impossible. The maids carrying laundry down the corridor gasped and gawked until their eyes almost popped out of their heads when they saw her. It cost all her strength to hold her head up high and ignore them, and when she was finally able to close the door behind her, she leaned against the wood and exhaled a shaking breath. Her chest felt too tight to breathe and when she stared down at her hands, she wondered for how long they'd been shaking so hard and why she didn't feel anything.

She didn't know how long she stood like this before she was able to move again and let her eyes wander of the interior of her chamber, surprised to find everything exactly as she had left it. Her bed was made, the utensils on her desk neatly arranged, there was even the unfinished letter she had started before her overhasty departure. The smell of lavender and nightshade lingered in the air; the potions on the shelf beside her small alchemly lab were perfectly lined up. And no speck of dust anywhere. Someone had cleaned her room while she had been away. _They all thought I'd come back eventually,_ she thought bitterly, and they were right. _And_ _I did come crawling back. I have nowhere else to go._

Slowly, she sat down on the edge of her bed, staring into space, trying to push the thought aside. She resisted the urge to lift her hand and touch the scarred tissue on her face, tried to focus on something else, anything but the way she must look now, how her own image in the mirror and the looks other gave her would always remind her of what had happened down in that cell.

Lightning flashed before her inner eye and even though she knew it wasn't real, panic washed over her, knocked the air out of her lungs and made it impossible to breathe. Her fingers clenched to fists, so hard her nails drew blood but she didn't feel anything, only paralyzing fear and the smell of burned flesh…

The door swung open and she blinked when the noise brought her back to reality.

Muiri burst into the room with flying skirts, a beaming smile on her face. "You're back! I knew you would- oh…" She broke off and stopped in her tracks in the middle of the room as if she had run into an invisible wall, pressed a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with fright and horror. "Oh dear gods", she whispered, her voice muffled by her fingers. After a moment, she had gathered herself and rushed over to the bed. "Oh gods, Elaine, what happened to you?"

It took all the self-control she had left not to flinch back when the younger sat down beside her and took her hands. She didn't want to be so close to someone, the touch, as innocent as it was and as comforting it was meant, made her feel sick. And she didn't want to explain what had happened, couldn't even find words for it.

She swallowed hard. Didn't make any difference now, did it? They'd all now sooner or later. It was nonsense, of course, but she couldn't help the burning feeling of shame. In no way was this her fault, _they_ had done this to _her. _But she didn't want to be seen like this, weak, broken, _marked_.

Muiri was still staring at her disfigured face, obviously waiting for an answer. Elaine tried to smile but it ended up to weak to be called that. "Thalmor", she finally brought out and it sounded as frail as she felt. She heard Muiri suck in her breath in a sharp gasp but before the girl could say anything, a shadow fell through the open door and both women looked up.

It was Saif standing in the doorframe. He still wore his traveling cloak and had his knapsack slung over his shoulder. The frown on his face seemed to ease a bit when his eyes fell upon them, and his voice was quiet and calm. "I'm sorry to disturb you but… we need to talk."

Of course. He still hadn't asked her anything about all the things she had spilled out so easily… Suddenly even Muiri's company seemed more bearable. Despite herself, she gave a curt nod without looking at him. It was no use, she'd have to face this out now.

"I… I'll leave you then", Muiri stuttered and stood quickly. When she walked past the Dragonborn, he held her back.

"Could you wait downstairs for me? I'd like to talk to you as well, if that's alright."

Muiri looked perplexed, even sheepish, and Elaine would have laughed at her friend's awkwardness if she had not felt so tired and ill. "Yes… yes, of course. I'll wait." Then Muiri scurried past him, out the door, closing it behind her.

Saif took her place on the bed beside Elaine. The look on his caring and worried, and she hated him for pitying her and herself for feeling so ashamed when she should not.

"Are you in pain?"

She stared down on her hands in her lap and managed to shake her head. "No. It's alright." That, at least, was true: The healing potions had done their work as they should. The scar on her cheek and neck itched horribly, the battered skin felt dry and strained, as if stretched tightly over her skull but the medicine had reduced the pain to a dull ache that she could tolerate.

"Good." He cleared his throat, hesitantly. "I know this is hard", he continued after a moment of silence. "But you know we have too talk about what they asked you."

_'I don't know, I don't know, please, please don't…'_

_'You can do better than that, little girl. Let's try that again, shall we?'_

_Let's try that again, shall we?_

_Let's try that again, shall we?_

Elaine took a deep breath and tried to push her interrogator's voice out of her mind. It was a pointless effort, she knew it would haunt her dreams and she would see contemptuous smile and the violet flashes every time every time she'd close her eyes.

"I know", she finally mumbled. Whining like a_ little girl_ wouldn't make it better. She'd just have to get this over and done with.

* * *

He had expected her to cry but she did not shed a single tear. In truth, tears would have probably been better for her sanity and easier to watch than this - Elaine fighting to keep her composure, her lips pressed to a thin line, squeezing her eyes shut every time she took a deep breath when she tried to continue. Saif told himself over and over that he had no choice, he had to ask her. It still felt horribly wrong and cruel to demand this from her, to make her live through all of this again. Bit by bit, she remembered and told him of important trade routes, soldiers stationed at outposts and and the visit of the ambassador from Hammerfell.

With exception of the latter, it wasn't much they couldn't have found out from another source. Not that it mattered. They'd have done this even with the sole purpose of breaking her. If only that the court had a weak point with her now…

Finally, she fell silent and when he gently laid a hand over hers, she swallowed. "That's… that's it. I mean, I don't remember… telling them anything else."

"Good", he reassured her as softly as he could. "That's good. Thank you. You were very brave."

She should have looked relieved, he thought, at least a little bit, relieved that it was over. She didn't at all. Her eyes were still clouded with unrest and even fear, and he could read people well enough to know that there was something she hadn't told him yet, that she was still holding something back. And whatever it was, it troubled her deeply.

Searching for her gaze, he leaned forward a bit. "Is there something else?"

"It's nothing important", she swallowed again, "I just… I've been… seeing things."

Saif stared at her, perplexed. "Things?"

When she told him, reluctant at first, about the crow that kept appearing, he listened quietly, not sure what to make of it. He had heard of people having visions and didn't feel reluctant to believe there was truth to them but that she, of all people, had to put up with this didn't make him feel particularly comfortable.

"Have you told anyone else about this?"

Elaine pressed her lips together to a thin line. "Vilvyni and my brother. And now both are dead."

He had heard of her brother's death and the other name seemed vaguely familiar. He'd ask her friend about it, he decided - right now, Elaine didn't seem to be in any state to explain this in detail to him.

"I'm sure it had nothing to with this."

Her lips twisted to a bitter smile. "Then why are people dying around me?"

People died all the time, everywhere, but that was probably not what she needed to hear right now. Instead, he squeezed her hands gently. "I promise you, when I come back, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll think of something."

"Can't I come with you?"

She sounded so desperate and her eyes were wide and full of unshed tears that for a moment, he almost faltered. Then the image of his… old_ friends_ in the Imperial city came to mind and he shook his head.

"I'll have to meet some people, dangerous people, who… well, let's just say I wouldn't want to know you near them. And this is the safest place for you. Just stay put for a while, and don't leave the palace alone, alright? I won't be gone for more than a few weeks."

The thought of leaving her soon pained him even more now. At least no harm would come to her as long she'd stay in the palace.

_Not from the hands of the enemy, that is._

When there was nothing left to say, he realized he was still holding her hand. For a moment, he marveled at the contrast of her pale fingers against his dark skin. He wanted to tell her it was over now, she'd be say and she should never bother what others thought; that she was beautiful and the way she had made him feel the night before, nestled up against his side… Instead, he squeezed her hand softly once more, then tore himself away from her and stood. "Don't leave the palace on your own, alright? You should be safe within these walls. I'll be back in a few weeks, then we can talk about this."

Her hand dropped to her lap and her shoulders sank. "Sure."

Saif shouldered his knapsack and was on his way to the door when she called him back. "Saif?" He turned around again and looked at her, still sitting there on the bed. She looked small and fragile, pale like one ofthose little wooden dolls with white painted face he'd seen a noblemen's little daughter carry in her arms, in the streets of the Imperial city. How long ago had that been? Fifteen years? Twenty?

_Fragile, _he thought as he studied her hands, long slim fingers folded tightly in her lap, _but not weak._ No, she was anything but weak. Someone weak wouldn't have stood up from the floor of that dark cell. Someone weak wouldn't have just put a king in his place. Someone weak wouldn't have survived everything she had lived through. What mattered now was keeping her save, even if it meant leaving her behind, leaving her here, of all places.

She still wasn't looking at him, stared instead across the room at the cold hearth fire, though he was sure she was not seeing anything in this room. "Did you really kill the World Eater?"

They hadn't talked about this yet and he had prefered it this way - the memories weren't pleasant and the glory and praise people had heaped on him after his return to Whiterun had made him feel more uncomfortable than anything else. People thought him a hero. He knew he was anything but.

"Yes."

She nodded slowly as if his answer had confirmed her thoughts.

"And you went to Sovngarde?"

"Yes."

"What was it like?"

Her voice was so full of yearning, it almost broke his heart. Of course. She was a Nord, at least partially; this was much more important to her than to him. But she shouldn't_ long_ to go there. Not yet. Not _ever._ Death would come soon enough.

To all of them.

"It's beautiful", he finally said quietly when the silence stretched out too long. "More than any words I know could express."

And yet he had not belonged there. Maybe because he was no Nord but Saif dared to believe that the feeling of being out of place, out of his element, a foreign body – that he had felt this way because he did not belong there, with the dead. That he had still a task to fulfill in the world of the living. A meaning. Right after he had returned, it had been the only though to keep him from giving up this mortal life and the body that felt far too small for his soul. Now, at least it seemed as if he had found new purpose. If all it meant was protecting her - it was enough.

Elaine didn't reply and didn't but when she finally looked up to him, the smallest smile tugged at her lips, faint and not very mirthful but to him, it still lit up the room like the warm light of a candle in the dark. "

"Stay safe, will you?", she said and while he returned her smile, he resisted the urge to walk back to her, take her in his arms, tell her that he would never leave her and that he would do everything in his power so she would never stop smiling again, and all the unspeakable things he wanted to do to her, not able to think about anything else since last night and this morning when she was pressed against him in the saddle…

He immediately felt sick to think of such a thing right now.

"You too.", he answered hoarsly and turned around to leave before she noticed anything or, even worse, he did something he would regret. One day, he silently swore to himself, one day he would not have to leave her again, no matter how painfully restless and driven the dovah might make him feel. If it meant being around, he would find a way to repress the dragon, fight it back, far enough so he could stay with her. And maybe, just maybe, he dared to hope, things would finally turn change for the better.

When Saif returned to the throne room, Elaine's friend was waiting for him, seated on a bench at the long table. As he stepped closer, she looked up and smiled nervously.

"Thank you for waiting… Muiri, right?" The girl nodded and he slipped onto the bench across from her.

"Alright", he said with a quick look over his shoulder to make sure there was no one within earshot who might disrupt them. "Now, I need you to explain to me what happened here."

* * *

_[A/N: Ugh, this was a fricken pain to write and the weather's too hot to concentrate… There're probably still a few mistake in there but I just wanted to upload and be done with it. Maybe I'll edit it later one more time. Anyway - sorry guys for keeping you waiting so long. If I promised to be better, I'd have to lie but I'll keep trying. _

_Special thanks to __timeywimeyspaceywacey__ for her input on Ulfric's character which really helped and inspired me, and actually motivated me enough to sit my ass down and write this thing._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter – as always, reviews are highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!]_


	25. Chapter 25

**STORMCROW – XXV**

_You keep a lot of secrets  
And I keep none  
Wish I could go back  
And keep some _

_You're fireproof  
Nothing breaks your heart  
You're fireproof  
It's just the way you are _

_You tell me you're waiting  
To find someone  
Who isn't so hopeless  
But there's no one _

_You're fireproof  
Nothing breaks your heart  
You're fireproof  
How'd you get so far?_

- The National, "Fireproof"

* * *

She stayed in bed until noon the next day and even then didn't feel like getting up, in a languid state, dozing off from time to time but never quite asleep. No, she couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes for too long, she saw the crackling light of lightning, smelled burning flesh and hair, heard the sound of her own screams and, even louder, the sneering laughter.

_Let's try that again, shall we?_

Every time, she opened her eyes wide and tried to remind herself she was safe, that they couldn't hurt her here.

And every time, she lifted her hand, fingers touching the scar on her face, and she knew that even if this was true, even if she was safe now, it didn't matter much - what they had done to her would haunt her for the rest of her days. And in that - no matter whether they had gotten something useful from her or not, whether they would ever harm her again or not - they had already won.

She knew she should do something to keep herself, to get her mind off what had happened but her limbs felt too feeble to move, her head to heavy to lift from her pillow. The mere thought of collecting herself, hieving herself out of bed, getting dressed, _facing _other people, even the thought of it made her feel sick. She had managed to keep a straight face and hold herself up yesterday but she was not at all sure she would be able to do this if only for another day. And what was the point, anyway? Her duties had most likely been given to someone else. She had nothing to do anymore, and even though she didn't even want to work on anything, nothing was more horrible, more sickening, than the feeling of not having a place here anymore, no matter how often Muiri repeated they were so glad to have her back.

Her former apprentice had insisted she'd take a bath the night before, and had brought her an ointment for the scar to sooth the constant itching and smarting feeling on her face. Elaine couldn't bring herself to let her touch it. And when the girl hesitantly suggested to try and use healing magic to try and use healing magic to ease the ache - and maybe the scar would even fade away a bit - she had to bite the inside of her cheek not to scream. Couldn't Muiri see what she had just been through? Didn't she understand that Elaine would never use Restoration magic again, much less let herself be touched by it? No, of course she didn't understand, how could she?

In the late afternoon, loud voices from the corridor woke her from her dozing state. For a while, she listened to the sound without hearing the words. Only when she thought she had heard her name, she lifted her head to listen more closely. Calder's deep, distinctive voice drowned Muiri's agitated whispering, she was obviously trying to calm the housecarl down. Before she could decide if she should get up and ask them to keep their voices down or just ignore them and go back to sleep, there was a loud knock on her door and Muiri's indignant outcry: "I'm telling you, she doesn't want to see anyone-"

"You already woke me up", she said loudly, wrapping the sheets tightly around her since she was still only wearing a nightgown. "You might as well come in now."

Whatever her housecarl thought when his eyes fell on her face, he hid it well. Elaine stared at him confused as he sank on one knee and bowed his head. She had expected… well, she had not really expected anything but this was definitively not a reaction she would have expected.

"Forgive me, my Thane", he burst out, his voice breathy, "I failed you."

She only stared at him dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

Calder, still on one knee, glanced up to her and cleared his throat. "I am your sword and your shield", he explained, obviously now confused himself that she didn't understand. "It was sworn to protect you and I failed."

Apparently, the duty of a housecarl was more serious to Calder than she had realized. To her, he had never been more than a guard to her and realizing she had never seen him as more than a guard, she felt a sting of guilt – and for that, she felt angry not only at herself but at Calder as well. Why did he have to come to her like that? Why did he have to make her feel guilty for what happened?

"Stand up", she said as quietly as she could, hoping desperately her voice wouldn't tremble. "None of this was your fault and I want to hear no more of this. Do you understand?"

Slowly, Calder rose to his feet again. "Yes, my Thane."

Awkward silence followed. Elaine pulled the sheets tighter around her, avoiding to look at her housecarl or Muiri who was still standing in the door, staring at them with bated breath. She just wanted to be left alone but it felt like she should say something…

"I'll send for you if I have need of you", she finally managed and Calder nodded a bit to quickly.

"As you wish, my Thane."

When he was finally gone, she was left with Muiri who hovered at the door, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "Do you want anything?", she offered, "Should I bring you something to eat?" Her eyes flickered to Elaine before she looked away again quickly. As if she couldn't stand the sight. Did she really look so unbearably disfigured that even her friend could not bring herself to look at her?

Tucking in her legs, Elaine wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned against the wall behind her, wishing it would swallow her whole. "I don't want anything."

"Oh." The girl bit her lip. "Do you want me to leave?"

"I know you mean well but…"

"No, it's alright. I'll go."

Elaine had closed her eyes so she didn't have to see Muiri's face but she still heard the hurt and disappointment in her friend's voice, and she knew she should be more grateful. She did feel a little guilty but not for Muiri – only because she knew she should care about her friend's feelings.

But there was… nothing.

* * *

Over time, it became easier to pretend everything was alright. Not that she didn't need to fool too many people: She almost never left her room and stayed holed up in her chamber, in bed or in a chair in front of the hearth. The dull ache on her face and neck, that she could manage. What she could not see herself abide were the people gawking at her, with horror and dismay and pity, and the feeling of humiliation and shame those looks caused her. Sometimes she thought that maybe this had been the Altmer's intention, to mark her where everyone could see it, so that she would never forget what had happened.

Days went by in a gray haze when every food she ate tasted like ash and the words in every book she read blurred before her eyes, and she often sat still for hours, only staring into the distance with wide open eyes until the Muiri's or Sifnar's knock on her door brought her back to reality. The old cook brought her meals up to her room but never stayed long, always left quickly with only a gentle pad on her shoulder, and she didn't blame him – no, she was thankful to be left alone. On other days, she would pace restlessly around her room, seized with a restlessness that could not be helped, that made her want to smash every breakable object in the room to smithers and scream at the walls until she would finally find rest.

But she never did and she remained silent.

Muiri proved to be quite a different case than old Sifnar. She became a faithful companion, at first under the pretense of needing Elaine's advice on some of her potions. Then she just stayed, for a few hours every day, reading, writing down recipes and using Elaine's small laboratory in the corner. With the patience of a saint, she endured everything, the long periods of silence, the frequent outburst when Elaine would snap at her for the simplest reasons, the answers to her questions that never came when Elaine's mind was some place far away.

There were times when Elaine cursed her to Oblivion for not leaving her in peace, and other times when she was incredibly grateful for not being alone – when the memories all came back at once, threatened to drown her and she needed something or someone to pull her back to reality.

"Am I doing that right?" Muiri glanced into the still pot on the alchemy table, where a water with a mixture of grinded bear claws and the petals of blue mountain flowers was gently boiling. "I don't think it's supposed to cook that strongly. Elaine?"

She was sitting in a chair at her desk. For a while, she had busied herself rereading the second volume of the Songs of no Return but had not been able to concentrate for more than two pages. She hadn't even noticed when she had lifted her hand and started to brush her fingertips over the rugged, blemished part of her face, a motion she would often do unconsciously and then hate herself afterwards for it.

When she realized Muiri was looking at her curiously and – what was even worse – with pity, she abruptly dropped her hand. Her hope Muiri would not press on were destroyed when the girl put mortar and pestle down and turned around.

"Maybe we could try something", she began carefully, "you know, maybe we can find some kind of potion or a spell…"

Anger boiled up in her and before she could control herself, she hissed back: "What, do I look so ugly to you?" Muiri's face fell instantly and Elaine felt a sting of guilt but the rage was stronger, fueled by all the hurt and shame she usually managed to suppress. "That you can't stand to even look at me?"

"No, I just thought-"

"Just leave me alone!" In a sudden wave of blind rage, Elaine was on her feet and swept the mirror, quills, books and the jar of ink from the surface of her table with a swing of her arm. The mirror's glass shattered into a thousand pieces, scattered across the floor. The inkwell rolled away under the bed, leaving behind a wet trail of black.

Dead silence followed, only interrupted by Elaine's heavy breathing. All color had vanished from Muiri's face, she stared at her friend bewildered and almost scared but Elaine didn't want to - _couldn't_ look at her. For a moment, she stared down at the mess she had made, before she collapsed into a miserable heap on the floor, in the middle of the chaos she had created, and buried her face in her hands. Almost ironic how much this represented life, wasn't it? A complete mess, broken, shattered, and there was no way she could mend the pieces together again.

She had expected Muiri to turn around on her heel and leave but instead, the girl carefully stepped over the pieces of glass and kneeled down beside her. "I'm sorry", she whispered, and a dry sob escaped Elaine - she had been the one to snap, she should be the one to feel sorry and apologize but she didn't even know what was wrong with her and she was just so tired... Muiri took her hands and gently pulled them away from her face. Tears shimmered in the girl's eyes and Elaine hated herself even more for making her cry. "I didn't want to upset you. I'm not going to say anything about it anymore, alright?"

"No", she whispered and dropped her eyes again, couldn't take all that sorrow she caused. "It's not alright. Nothing's alright."

"I know." Her thumbs gently stroke over the back of Elaine's hands. "But... we're your family. Me and Jorleif and even Sifnar. I know it doesn't help much but we're here for you."

_Family._ It was meant to make her feel. Instead, she felt the knot in her stomach tighten so hard she felt nauseated. The last of her family was dead. Dead because she had failed, had not been able to save him.

"Really?" She should just leave it be but the mention of Jorleif added another wave of bile to the growing pile of grief and pain she felt being dumped on her heart. "Because Jorleif hasn't showed his face_ once_ since I'm back." At first, she had been grateful he was giving her time and space. With every day passing, however, she had realized he either didn't want to see her or simply didn't care enough. So much for all his talking about how worried he was…

"Oh, don't mind him. He's mad because he's an idiot but he'll come around. But he asks about you all the time."

"Mad?" That was nonsense, what reason could he have – "At me? Why?"

"Well…" Muiri rubbed the bridge of her nose, suddenly looking sheepish. "When you left, you know... we didn't know where you went, we didn't even know if you where still alive." She shrugged helplessly, almost apologetic. "He was really worried. We all were."

"Oh." Elaine had to admit she had never given much thought of how it would affect the people close to her, not when she had been in Riverwood, and even less since she had been back. At the time, everything that had matter was her own anger at Ulfric, her hurt feelings, her fear of facing him again. Of course, Jorleif had been worried. But why did that matter so much now, when she was back, when he could clearly see all she had gone through?

Why was everyone trying to make her feel guilty for what happened?

Why couldn't things just go back to the way they were?

"Maybe you should just talk to him", Muiri suggested softly. "You know what a stubborn old fool he is. And it would do you good to get out of this room for a while, don't you think?"

"Maybe", she mumbled, not convinced that this was in any way responsibility to mend things between Jorleif and her. But Muiri looked so expectant at her and she was tired of fighting with her. A look down at her hands the girl was still holding brought a faint smile to her lips. Her fingers, and now Muiri's as well were tinted black, she must have brought her hand into a puddle of ink when she had tumbled down to the floor.

Muiri followed her gaze and laughed. It seemed to break the ice somewhat and the tension seemed to flow out of them both, at least for now. "You should probably clean up first. Come on, let's see that you don't have a splinter of glass somewhere…"

* * *

By the time Muiri finally found her to be presentable enough, which included putting her in a clean dress and braiding her hair, Elaine made her way down to the throne room, if somewhat hesitantly. She didn't want to talk about what happened after her sudden departure from the palace. She didn't want to be forced to give an explanation and she certainly wouldn't apologize for anything. Still, she hadn't found the energy to argue any longer and in truth, it didn't seemed worth the effort, she might as well did what Muiri wanted and then she would finally be left alone again. There was the vague feeling that she should care more, that there was something wrong with her thinking this way but she didn't want to think about it for too long; it made her head hurt.

But she never made it to Jorleif's office. The same time she stepped into the throne room, the great entrance door fell shut with a loud _thud_. It startled her, she flinched and turned around to see the cloaked stranger walk into the hall with long strides. But a stranger he was not - she recognized Saif before he pushed down his hood and waited while he approached her, with the swelling feeling of relief that he was back. Maybe, somewhere deep down, she had feared, even expected that he wouldn't return, that he would abandon her. But the joy was short-lived when she saw the look on his tired face, smeared with streaks of dirt just like his clothes; the bags and dark circles under his eyes, creases of sorrow on his forehead - he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. And what worried her even more was the look in his dark eyes.

_Like a cornered beast of prey. _

_He's afraid._

She didn't bother with a speech of welcome. "What happened?"

Saif greeted her with a smile that turned out a bit too crooked und seemed oddly out of place on his worn face. He exhaled a puff of breath and wiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before he spoke with a voice as rough as sandpaper.

"The Emperor is dead."

* * *

_[A/N: The chapter turned longer and longer, so I decided to split it up. It is now a bit short but the second part is almost finished and will be up some time next week._ _Once again, I'm very sorry chapters are taking so long but the muse has not been kind to me lately. And I needed to sit down and do some research on PTSD before writing this. I'm still nervous whether this is well executed or not - I gave this to my boyfriend to read and he found it not perfect but okay, so I decided to go with it before I got completely lost in research. Your opinions would be highly appreciated as well._

_Next chapter: More drama, more Tamrielic politics. (Yay?)_

_Thanks for reading! ]_


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